THE  PROSE  OF  JOHN  WILSON 


BY 

AGNES  GRIEVE  WALKER 

A.  B.  Coe  College,  1920 


THESIS 

» 

Submitted  in  Partial  Fulfillment  of  the  Requirements  for  the 

Degree  of 

MASTER  OF  ARTS 
IN  ENGLISH 

IN 

THE  GRADUATE  SCHOOL 
OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 
1921 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/proseofjohnwilsoOOwalk 


SEP  21  e<mta. 


\^7lS 

Yvi\^ 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


Intro luct ion 

Chap  ter 

I 

Criticism 

Chapter 

II 

— Descriptive  Narration 

Chapter 

III 

- Miscellaneous  Works  - 
The  Noctes  Ambrosianae 

Bibliography 

Page 

1-12 

13-30 

31-52 

53-76 

79-61 


1 


INTRODUCTION 

JOHN  WILSON  (1785  - 1854) 

Were  it  possible  to  turn  back  for  a moment  the  pages  of  the 
book  of  life,  and  to  stand  once  more  upon  the  threshold  of  a by- 
gone age,  how  startling  would  be  the  revelations  that  would  greet 
us  there:  History,  literature,  society,  all  would  be  enveloped 

in  a new  atmosphere,  endowed  with  a new  meaning.  Events  which 
now  impress  us  as  the.  vital  problems  of  the  age  would  pale  in 
the  light  of  intense  flaming  zeal  in  contemporary  issues  of  the 
day.  Men  whom  we  now  revere  would  sink  into  comparative  insig-  ' 
nif icance : men  whom  we  have  permitted  to  fall  into  oblivion 

would  stand  forth  in  all  the  glory  of  fam$  and  achievement.  So 
it  is  with  the  opening  of  the  nineteenth  century.  With  the 
changing  spirit  of  the  times,  new  customs,  new  manners,  new  lit- 
erary  ideals,  new  political  institutions,  much  of  the  local  color 
and  contemporary  atmosphere  of  that  period  has  been  forgotten. 

And  with  the  fading  of  such  interests  have  gone  many  names  once 

prominent  in  oolitics  and  letters.  Yet  could  we  step  back  into 

would 

the  heart  of  that  glorious  age  of  Romanticism,  we /find  ourselves 
in  the  midst  of  a brilliant  group  of  literary  men.  Coleridge 
had  given  to  the  world  his  humanly  sympathetic  dream  poems: 

Scott  had  produced  his  stirring  martial  poems  of  the  Scottish 
border:  Wordsworth  was  publishing  his  great  interpretations 

of  nature:  and  Eyron  was  singing  of  the  passion  and  splendor 


- * * • ^ 


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3 


of  Europe  and  the  Orient:  while  in  the  field  of  pro3e  Scott  was 

kindling  afresh  popular  enthusiasm  for  national  history  by  re- 
animating in  hi3  novels  the  3pirit  of  the  past:  and  De  Quincey 

was  preparing  to  publish  his  famous  criticisms  and  autobiographies. 

Prominent  among  these  men,  however,  stands  a figure  now 
almost  forgotten,  one  who  "looms  on  the  horizon  of  the  pa3t, 
the  representative  of  a vanished  race  of  physical  and  intellec- 
tual giants,  the  historical  legend  revealing  him  as  beyond  all 
things  a good  man  of  his  inches,  the  soul  and  center  of  a bril- 
liant circle  of  literary  critics"  “ Christopher  North.  TsL  1, 
muscular,  athletic,  of  powerful  physical  frame  and  boundless 
mental  energy,  John  Wilson  by  force  of  his  vibrant  personality 
and  exuberant  spirit,  reigned  gloriously  for  many  years  as  one 
of  the  foremost  literary  dictators  of  his  age.  Among  his  friends 
were  numbered  Scott,  Coleriige,  Wordsworth,  and  Pe  Quincey,  with 
all  of  whom  he  exchanged  periodic  visits.  Indeed  it  was  at 
Wordsworth’s  home  in  Grasmere  that  he  first  met  Coleridge  and 

De  Quincey,  as  is  very  interestingly  narrated  in  the  latter's 

(2) 

"Sketches  of  Wilson." 

But  the  real  center  of  his  power  lay  in  Edinburgh,  where 
was  assembled  the  famous  Blackwood  Group,  Lockhardt,  Galt, 

Ferrier,  and  Hamilton,  Here  it  was  that  Wilson  ruled  as  chief: 
here  it  was  that  his  opinions  received  the  greatest  credit  and 

(1)  Douglas  - Blackwood  Group"  - (Famous  Scott  Series)  pp  .9-10 . 

(2)  De  Quincey  Works.  Ed.  Masson,  v. 5. p.262. 


3 


respect,  and  here  hi3  power  was  mo3t  widely  acknowledged  and  felt. 
Minor  writers  who  came  immediately  under  his  influence  felt  that 
one  word  from  his  pen  might  exalt  them  to  immediate  fame  and 
glory,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  "blast  forever  their  hopes  of  recog- 
nition. From  him  Tennyson  suffered  an  onslaught  that  would  have 
silenced  forever  a lesser  poetj  to  him  Wordsworth  himself  owed 
much  of  his  wide  recognition  and  appreciation  in  Scotland.  "How 
the  public  did  watch  and  weary  for  the  first  of  the  month:  for 
it  was  sure  to  bring  with  it  either  a sunny  and  splendid  morning 
of  poetic  eloquence,  or  a terrible  and  sublime  invective  of 
satiric  power.  'Who  is  next/’  was  the  general  question,  'to  be 

crowned  as  by  the  hand  of  Apollo  or  to  be  searched  as  by  a 

(3) 

wafture  from  the  torch  of  the  Furies?'"  Such  was  the  general 
sentiment  of  the  national  capital,  and,  indeed,  his  reputation 
if  not  his  recognition  as  a literary  critic  was  nation-wide. 

So  much  for  contemporary  criticism:  let  us  now  turn  to 

the  verdict  of  later  years,  which  robbed  of  the  influence  of 
personality  and  local  color,  is  at  once  more  just,  sane,  and 
unprejudiced.  Perhaps  the  most  penetrating  criticism  ever 
written  upon  Wilson  is  that  delivered  by  Carlyle,  who,  in  a 
single  paragraph  sums  up  admirably  the  one  defect  which  prevented 
Wilson  from  standing  in  the  front  rank  of  literary  artists. 
"Wilson  had  much  nobleness  of  heart  and  many  traits  of  noble 


(3)  Gilfillan  - "Literary  Portraits, ""Professor  Wilson" -pp  . 374. 


- 4 - 

geniu3,  but  tbs  central  tie  beam  seemed  wanting  always:  Toryism 

with  sansculott ism : Methodism  of  a sort  with  total  incredulity: 

a noble,  loyal,  and  religious  nature  not  strong  enough  to  vanquish 
the  perverse  element  it  is  born  tc . Hence  being  all  split  into 
precipitous  chasms  and  the  wildest  volcanic  tumults:  rocks  over- 
grown indeed  with  tropical  luxuriance  of  leaf  and  flower,  but 
knit  together  at  the  bottom  only  by  an  ocean  of  whiskey  punch. 

On  these  terms  nothing  can  be  done.  Wilson  seemed  to  me  always 
by  far  the  most  gifted  of  our  literary  men,  either  then  or  still. 
And  yet  intrinsically  he  has  written  nothing  that  can  endure. 

U) 

The  central  gift  was  wanting.” 

In  close  accord  with  the  spirit  of  the  critism  is  that  of 

H.  J.  Millar  when  he  says.  "There  is  nothing  easier  than  to 

under-rate  Wilson's  abilities  and  in  a moment  of  exasperation 

to  believe  that  he  was  no  more  than  a superior  sort  of  Professor 

Black ie He  was  a creature  of  moods,  the  sport  of  contending 

emotions,  destitute  of  what  i3  called  ballast His  failings 

his 

are  as  conspicuous  as  tc  throw/many  excellent  and  admirable 

qualities  into  the  background,  but  they  must  not  blind  us  to 

his  genius,  for  genius  he  unquestionably  had,  though  of  an  ir- 
„ " (5) 

regular  and  spasmodic  kind.  De  Quincey,  also,  in  his  semi- 
satiric  manner,  touches  upon  the  same  central  defect  in  the 
Professor's  work.  ” 'Had  he,'  it  is  said,  'thrown  the  same 

fiery  genius  into  a less  desultory  shape,  it  is  hard  to  compute 

^ (4)  Millar,  « Literary  History  of  Scotland"  - p.510. 

(5)  Saintsbury,  "Essays  in  English  Literature,"  v.I,  p.271 


. 


how  enormous  and  systematic  a bock  he  might  have  written.'  That 
is  true:  had  he  worked  a little  at  the  book  every  day  of  his 

life,  by  this  time  it  would  have  towered  into  an  altitude  a3  to 
require  long  ladders  and  scaffolding  for  studying  it,  and,  like 
the  Vicar  of  Wakefield's  family  portrait,  could  find  its  way 
into  no  human  chambers  without  pulling  down  the  sidea  of  the  house. 
In  the  footnotes,  where  the  streetlamps  would  keep  him  in  crier, 
the  professor  might  have  carried  on  3cb=?rly  enough.  But  in  the 
upper  part  of  the  page  where  he  would  feel  himself  striding  in 
nubibus,  ah  crimini!  what  larkings  there  would  have  been,  what 
sprees  with  the  Aurora  Borealis l What  a rise  he  would  have  taken 
out  of  us  roor  mortals  below!  Even  the  man  in  the  moon  would 

(6) 

have  been  frightened  into  apogee  by  the  menaces  of  his  crutch.” 

Yet  Ee  Quincey  does  net  totally  condemn  Wilson.  Cautious 
critic  a3  he  ordinarily  is,  he  proceeds  to  declare  that  from 
Wilson's  contributions  to  Elackwocd's  magazine,  and  more  espec- 
ially from  his  meditative  examinations  of  the  great  poets,  both 
modern  and  ancient,  «a  florilegium  might  be  compiled  of  thoughts 
more  profound  and  more  gorgeously  illustrated  than  exists  else- 
where in  human  composition.”  ” the re  is  another  and  a far  ampler 
philosophy,”  he  writes  concerning  the  criticism  of  Wilson's 
lectures,  ”a  philosophy  of  human  nature,  like  the  philosophy 
of  Shakespeare,  and  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  and  of  Edmund  Burke,  which 
is  scattered  through  the  miscellaneous  papers  of  Professor  Wilson. 


(B)  De  Quincey  Works,  Ed.  Massen.  v.5,  p.  294. 


6 


Such  philosophy  by  its  very  nature  is  of  a far  higher  and  more 
inspiring  nature  than -any  which  lingers  as  mere  scholastic  con- 
undrums. It  is  a philosophy  that  cannot  be  represented  in  ab- 
stract forms,  but  hides  itself  as  an  incarnation  in  voluminous 
mazes  of  eloquence  and  poetic  feelings.  Lock  for  this  among 

the  critical  essays  of  Professor  Wilson which  for  continual 

glimpses  and  revelation  of  hidden  truth  are  perhaps  absolutely 

unmatched and  in  which  he  displays  his  own  genius,  its  origin- 

(7)  in 

ality  and  power.”  What  this  genius  is,  and  just /what  its 

power  consists,  is  admirably  expressed  by  James  Eannay:  "When 

a writer  like  Wilson  appears,  who,  even  without  transcendent 

genius,  for  a great  genius  he  is  not,  is  in  thorough  communication 

with  nature:  writing  as  he  acts,  and  talking  as  he  does  both; 

(6) 

a man  ’all  symmetry,  perfectly  healthy.”  Gilfillan  and 

Saintsbury  proceed  to  analyze  this  peculiar  genius  into  its 
constituent  parts,  good  and  bad  respectively.  ” We  pass  to  3peak 
of  the  elements  cf  his  genius,”  says  the  former.  "These  are 
distinguished  by  their  prodigal  abundance  and  variety.  He  was 

what  the  Germans  call  an  "all-sided”  man His  imagination  was 

large,  rich  and  ungovernable: His  humor  was  one  of  the  most 

lavish  of  his  faculties.  Add  to  this  great  memory,  keen  sharp 
intellect,  wide  sympathies,  strong  passion,  and  a boundless  com- 
mand of  a somewhat  loose  but  musical  and  energetic  diction,  and 

(9) 

you  have  the  outline  of  his  gifts  and  endowment s ."  "Only  rarely, 

(7)  De  Quincey,  Works.  Ed.  Masson,  p.301. 

(6)  Hannay,  "Characters  and  Criticisms,”  p.  313. 

(9)  Gilfillan,  "literary  Portraits",  p.383. 


■t  \ 


■ 


7 


82^s  Saintsbury,  writing  from  the  other  view-po  int  ,"ha6  he  even 

written  good  pages,  in  the  sense  of  pages  good  throughout.  Even 

the  almost  inconceivable  haste  with  which  he  wrote  would  not  of 

its  self  account  for  the  puerilities,  the  touches  of  tad  taste, 

the  false  pathos,  the  tedious  burlesque,  the  more  tedious  3 act- 

(10) 

at  ion,  which  disfigure  hi 3 work.”  » A general  chaos,*'  he  say 3 

(11) 

"but  first  of  all,  and  I fear  last  of  all,  chaotic." 

The  difference  between  the  verdicts  of  these  two  critics 
illustrates  in  general  the  wide  division  of  critical  opinion 
regarding  the  prose  of  John  Wilson.  Even  concerning  his  individual 
works  this  is  in  a large  measure  true.  As  a novelist,  however, 
he  was  generally  regarded  a failure.  A3  Sir  George  Douglas  says 
in  his  sketches  of  the  Blackwood  Group,  "His  stories  are  de- 
liberately localized  in  some  other  world  than  ours,  and  if  there 
thence  ensues  a certain  aesthetic  gain  it  is  accompanied  by  more 
than  proport ionate  less  in  vari semblance  and  moral  force.  To 
speak  more  plainly,  if  the  world  of  Wilson’s  tales  is  a better 
one  than  ours  it  yet  remains  an  artificial  one:  his  stories 

develop  in  accordance  with  the  rules  of  a preconceived  ideal, 

and  a ’weakening  of  their  interest  is  the  result.- The  vices 

of  prettiness,  self  consciousness,  artificiality,  and  sentiment 
suffice  to  stamp  his  work  a3  an  imitation  decadent  from  the 

(13)  • 

lofty  source  of  its  original,  Wordsworth."  Gilfillan,  moreover, 

(10)  Saintsbury,  "Essays  in  English  Literature,"  VI.  p.  242. 

(11)  Saintsbury,  "Essays  in  English  Literature , v.3,  p.476 

(12)  Douglas,  "Blackwood  Group,"  p.30. 


6 


takes  up  another  source  of  their  weakness  when  he  say 3,  ” Wilson 

is  too  Ossianic  in  his  style  of  narration  and  description,  and 

had  he  attempted  a novel  in  three  or  four  volumes,  it  had  been 

absolutely  illegible.  Even  '’Margaret  Lindsay,”  his  longer  tale, 

rather  tires  before  the  close  through  its  sameness  of  eloquence 

and  monotony  of  pathos;  only  very  short  letters  should  be  all 

(13) 

written  in  tears  and  blood.” 

As  a poet  he  was  scarcely  more  successful.  True,  many 

beautiful  passages  may  be  pointed  out  in  verse,  but  no  one  would 

probably  maintain  that  it  bids  fare  to  have  a long  life.  Gil- 

fillan  blames  the  failure  upon  the  early  influence  of  Wordsworth, 

when  '^e  says,  "Wilson  was  by  nature  fitted  to  be  as  a poet,  a 

great  compound  of  the  subjective,  and  the  subjective  with  the 

objective  somewhat  preponderating,  but  the  influence  of  Wordsworth, 

counteracted  only  in  part  by  that  of  Scott,  made  the  subjective 

predominate  unduly  in  the  verse,  and  he  who  might  have  been  almost 

a Shakespeare  had  he  followed  this  natural  tendency,  became  in 

(14) 

poetry  only  a secondary  member  of  the  lake  school."  And 

with  this  judgment  Saint sbury  on  the  whole  seems  to  agree; 

"His  poems  are  now  matters  of  interest  to  very  few  mortals.  It 

are 

is  not  that  they  are  bad,  for  they  are  not,  but  they/almost  wholly 
without  distinction.  He  came  just  late  enough  to  have  got  the 
seed  of  the  great  romantic  revival;  and  his  verse  work  is  rarely 
more  than  the  work  of  a clever  man  who  has  partly  learned  and 

(13)  Erilf  illan  "Literarv  Portraits."  p.  385. 

(14)  Gilf illan  "Eiterary  Portraits."  p.  371 


. 


, 


: 


9 


partly  divined  the  manner  of  Burns,  Scott,  Campbell,  Coleridge, 

(15) 

Wordsworth,  Byron,  and  the  rest.” 

Turning  next  to  the  field  of  criticism,  we  meet  with  perhaps, 
the  greatest  amount  of  disagreement.  There  is  so  much  to  be 
said  in  his  favor,  and  yet  as  a whole  he  is  generally  unreliably 
so  that  the  critical  estimates  are  unduly  at  variance.  Perhaps 
Saintsbury  best  expresses  the  source  of  true  worth  in  his  criti- 
cism when  he  says,  "Throughout  hi3  critical  works  there  are  scat- 
tered the  most  intelligent  ideas,  the  neatest  phrases,  and  the 

de) 

most  appreciative  judgements,"  while  on  the  other  hand  he 

touches  upon  his  worst  fault  in  the  statement,  "Diffuseness,  a 

bad  fault  anywhere,  is  an  absolutely  fatal  one  in  critical  liter- 

(17) 

ature  that  wishes  to  live."  And  later  he  elaborates  this  when 

he  mentions,  "critical  incivility  of  the  worst  sort,  political 

and  other  part isanship s,  and  a prevailing  capriciousness  which 

(16) 

makes  his  critical  utterances  almost  valueless:"  while  Millar, 

in  his  "Literary  History  of  Scotland,"  sums  up  both  opinions 

admirably:  "In  criticism  Wilson  is  an  extraordinary  mixture  of 

perspicacity  and  blindness,  of  the  sound  and  the  perverse,  oi 

the  sagacious  and  the  wayward,  of  the  brilliant  and  the  provok- 
(19) 

ing."  "But  though  he  is  condemned  as  a poet,  tale  teixer,  and 

critic,"  3avs  Saintsbury,  "this  leaves  untouched  the  attraction 

(15)  Saintsbury,  "Essays  in  English  Literature." 

(16)  Saintsbury,  "Essays  in  English  Literature."  p.  294 

(17)  Saintsbury,  "A  History  of  Criticism."  p.  477. 

(18)  Saintsbury,  "A  History  of  Criticism."  p.  473. 

(19)  Millar,  "Literary  History  of  Scotland,"  p.  511. 


? 


10 


of  this  miscellaneous  work,  ani  its  suitableness  for  the  purpose 
of  recreation.  For  that  purpose  I think  it  to  be  among  the  very 
best  work  in  all  literature.  Its  unfailing  life  and  vigor,  its 

vast  variety,  the  healthy  and  inspiring  characteristics  which 

(20) 

make  its  volumes  easy  chair  books  of  the  best  order.’'  His 

"drunken  Noctes",  as  Carlyle  calls  them,  are  a wondrous  series 

of  contributions,  grave  and  gay,  satiric  and  serious,  fierce  and 
(31) 

original."  "The  English  language  contains  nothing  30  grotesque 

as  some  of  their  humorous  descriptions,  nothing  so  graphic,  so 

intense,  so  terrible,  as  some  of  their  serious  pictures;  no 

dialogue  mors  elastic,  no  criticism  more  subtle,  no  gossip  more 

delightful;  no  such  fine  diffusion,  like  the  broad  eagle  wing; 

no  such  vigorous  compression,  like  the  keen  eagle  talon;  but 

when  we  remember  besides  that  the  Noctes  combine  ail  these  merits 

into  a wild  ani  wonderous  whole,  our  admiration  of  the  powers 

(22)  * 

displayed  in  them  is  intensified  to  astonishment."  And  closely 
allied  to  the  "Noctes"  are  the  "Recreations  of  Christopher  North," 
in  which  are  tc  be  found  some  of  the  most  beautiful  prose  de- 
scriptions of  natural  scenery  ever  penned."  "In  nc  modern,  not 
even  Scott,  do  we  find  prose  passages  so  gorgeous,  so  filled 
with  the  intense  spirit  of  pcetrv  and  rising  so  finely  into  \its 

T20) Saint sburv , "Essays  in  English  Literature."  p.  302. 

(21)  Gil  f ill  an,  "Literary  Portraits."  p.  343. 

(22) Gilf illan,  "Literary  Portraits."  p.  345. 


11 


(33) 

language  and  rhythm  a 3 these,”  says  Gilfillan,  while  Henry 

Hallam  characterizes  him  as  ”a  living  writer  of  the  most  ardent 

and  enthusiastic  genius,  where  eloquence  is  as  a rush  of  mighty 
<34) 

waters.”  And  such  eloquence  is  not  confined  to  description 

alone.  "His  sketches  of  boyhood  and  youth  cannot  be  matched 

(35) 

for  variety  and  eloquence.”  "The  progress  of  the  sportsman 

has  never  been  better  given  than  in  "Christopher  North  in  His 

<26)  “ 

Sporting  Jacket,"  writes  Saintsbury  of  Wilson's  essays  on  sport; 

while  he  sums  up  the  whole  case  in  the  following  quotation; 

"Wilson's  renown  as  an  athlete,  a sportsman,  and  a lover  of  nature 

who  had  a singular  gift  of  expressing  his  love,  has  not  yet  died, 

and  there  is  ample  audience  now  for  men  who  can  write  about 

(3?) 

athletics,  about  sport,  and  about  scenery." 

Summing  up,  therefore,  the  various  estimates  of  Wilson's 
genius,  we  find  a continual  conflict  of  opinion,  occasioned  al- 
most entirely  by  that  peculiar  compound  of  good  and  evil  that  i3 
ever  present  in  his  works.  A3  a poet  he  obviously  discarded  a 
certain  realism  of  the  first  order  to  become  a mere  imitator  of 
the  subjective  Romanticists;  a.s  a critic  he  is  at  once  brilliant 
and  unreliable;  while  as  a novelist  he  marred  a power  of  drawing 
exquisitely  beautiful  scenes  by  an  ever  present  artificiality 
and  overstrained  pathos.  Even  in  those  works  which  undoubtedly 
1 ssr  Gilfillan,  "Literary  Portraits."  p.  365 

(24)  Hallam,  H.  "Introduction  tc  the  Literature  of  Europe. ”v. 2. 

T3  .3  1 cti  • 13 • 

(25)  Millar,  "Literary  History  of  Scotland,"  p.  514. 

(26)  Saint shury,  "Essays  in  English  Literature,"  p.  298. 

(27)  Saintsbury , "Essay s in  English  Literature,"  p.  395. 


12 


display  his  genius  at  its  "best  - the  Noctes  Ambrosianae  and  his 
descriptive  writings  - his  fav.lt s pursue  him.  He  i3  diffuse, 
desultory,  unable  to  confine  himself  to  the  subject  in  hand. 

And  to  some  critics  these  faults  are  inexcusable;  they  completely 
overshadow  even  the  most  celebrated  of  his  descriptive  passages. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  are  critics  who  maintain  that  his 
merits  predominate,  that  in  view  of  his  eloquent  descriptions 
of  sport  and  scenery,  his  profound  observations  on  human  life, 
and  his  real  knowledge  and  love  of  literature,  his  failings  may 
be  regrettable  but  cannot  be  considered  unpardonable . It  is 
therefore,  with  the  aim  of  giving  just  consideration  to  both 
standpoints,  of  carefully  estimating  both  his  merits  and  his 
faults  that  we  take  up  the  present  study  of  the  prose  of  John 
Wilson.  Former  studies  have  frequently  stated  mere  general 
impressions  based  no  doubt  upon  a full  and  complete  reading  of 
his  works  and  containing  each  one  its  separate  element  of  truth. 
Eut  such  impressions  are  too  often  merely  impressionistic, 
records  of  emotional  or  intellectual  reactions  without  regard 
for  specific  justification,  therefore  exaggerated  alike  in  praise 
and  blame.  In  the  present  case,  however,  we  purpose  to  make  a 
broader,  more  extensive  study.  For  the  purpose  of  simplifying 
such  a study  we  shall  consider  his  writings  in  the  three  main 
divisions  into  which  they  naturally  fall:  namely  criticism, 
descriptive  narration,  and  the  Noctes  Ambrosianae. 


13 


CRITICISM. 

Vfaen  one  tries  to  appreciate  Christopher  North  a3  a critic 
he  inevitably  meets  with  a certain  amount  of  difficulty,  arising 
in  the  first  place  from  the  fact  that  Wilson's  criticism  is  not 
confined  to  his  formal  critical  essays,  but  i3  distributed  promis- 
cuously throughout  all  of  hi3  collected  writings.  Moreover, 
such  criticism  is  never  twice  of  equal  value;  his  best  work  is 
liable  to  be  found  in  his  wor3t  book,  and  his  worst  work  in  hi3 

best  book,  or  as  Saint sbury  r>uts  it,  "He  is  a writer  unequalled 

(1) 

in  his  equality."  On  the  other  hand  he  accumulated  repeated 
provocation  to  Nemesis  and  Oblivion:  He  is  immensely  diffuse, 

he  i3  frequently  extravagant  alike  in  praise  and  blame,  and, 
worst  of  all,  he  is  sriven  to  capriciousness,  resulting  f rom  hi3 
lack  of  any  fixed  critical  theory,  ani  a certain  amount  of  crit- 
ical incivility  that  leads  on  occasion  to  excess  and  vituper- 
ation. On  the  other  hand,  however,  he  i3  endowed  with  an  enthus- 
iastic knowledge  and  love  of  literature,  which,  combined  with  a 
keen  and  well  educated  intellect,  give  him  a real  capacity  for 
judging  whenever  he  allows  such  a capacity  really  to  exercise 
itself.  He  is  generous,  appreciative  of  the  works  of  national 
and  foreign  poets  alike,  and  capable  of  expressing  his  opinions 
in  straighf orward  and  energetic  diction. 

Before  taking  up  any  detailed  discussion  of  such  a strange 

compound  of  good  ani  evil,  however,  1st  us  consider  Wilson's 

criticism  as  a whole,  in  order  to  determine  the  general  method 
Tl)  Saint  sbury , "Essays  in  English  Literature,"  p.  290. 


- 14  - 


which  he  employs.  "Now  there  are",  says  Professor  Stuart  Pratt 
Sherman,  "three  possible  methods  of  criticism,  which  we  may 
designate  in  the  order  of  their  appearance  as:  the  judicial  or 

classical  method:  the  impressionistic  or  romantic  method:  the 

historic  or  naturalistic  method."  Each  of  these  methods,  moreover 
is  distinctive  in  purpose;  the  judicial  aiming  primarily  to 
judge  or  rank  a work  by  testing  its  conformity  with  set  critical 
principles  and  comparing  it  with  the  great  masterpieces  of  liter- 
ature; the  impressionistic  aiming  to  feel,  to  enjoy,  and  so  to 
convey  that  sensibility  and  pleasure  to  the  reader  that  he  will 
be  stimulated  to  become  acquainted  with  the  originals  themselves; 
and  the  historic  aiming  to  explain  and  understand,  with  special 

reference  to  background,  literarv  relations,  and  circumstances 

(3) 

of  composition.  Of  course  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  any 
critic  will  employ  one  of  these  methods  exclusively,  he  will  no 
doubt  use  all  to  a limited  extent,  but  as  a general  rule  one 
method  will  predominate.  Thus  Dr.  Johnson  is  judicial,  Kazlitt 
impressionistic,  and  Taine  historic.  With  reference  to  the 
subject  in  hand,  therefore,  the  question  naturally  arises  as  to 
where  Wilson’s  criticism  may  be  classified.  Certainly  he  is  not 
judicial,  he  put3  too  much  of  himself  into  his  criticism  for  that; 
nor  is  he  historic,  for  he  never  stops  to  consider  the  literary 
antecedents,  connections,  or  probable  influences  of  the  work 
he  is  discussing. 


(2)  Mat 'the  w Arnold; 


"How  to  Know  Him,"  p.  150. 


. 


• '■ 


. 


' 


There  is  hut  one  possibility  left,  impressionist ic,  and  it 
i 3 here,  I believe  that  we  may  place  the  criticism  of  Wilson. 
Impressionists  are  not  in  the  least  concerned  with  critical 
theory  or  literary  history.  Neither  is  Wilson.  Indeed  his 
critical  essays  are  but  an  eloquent  expression  of  his  own  personal 
likes  and  dislikes.  Impressionists  are  interested  solely  in 
voicing  their  appreciation  of  a certain  work,  in  bringing  to 
the  reader  instances  of  its  particular  attraction,  and  in  inter- 
esting him  thereby  in  the  whole.  Whether  the  work  may  claim  a 
place  amongst  standard  literature  concerns  them  not  al  all; 
their  interest  centers  wholly  in  the  power  of  its  personal  appeal. 
And  this,  indeed,  is  the  method  which  Wilson  employs.  With 
what  passionate,  whole-souled  enthusiasm  doe 3 he  voice  his  love 
or  hate,  illustrating  hi3  points  by  continual  citation  of  pass- 
ages and  carrying  the  reader  along  by  sheer  gusto  rather  than 
logic.  Ke  preaches  delightful  sermons  on  what  he  likes  at  the 
moment,  or  makes  formidable  attacks  on  what  happens  to  displease 
him,  with  at  times  an  exquisite  beauty  in  the  former  case,  or  a 
comparatively  rare  justice  in  the  latter.  But  never  does  he 
pause  to  state  directly  what  qualities  he  thinks  essential  to 
good  prose  or  poetry;  never  does  he  formulate  any  consistent 
critical  theory.  His  ideas  are  not  so  chosen  and  advanced  as 
to  fit  into  one  central  proposition,  but  are  dispersed,  varient, 
at  times  even  contradictory.  Not  that  he  failed  to  appreciate 


16  - 


good  literature  when  he  found  it;  except  on  occasion  when  preju- 
dice or  pure  caprice  was  allowed  to  sway  his  judgment  he  seems 
to  respond  unfailingly  to  the  be3t.  Eut  of  the  tracing  of  lit- 
erary cause  and  effect,  of  any  coherent  and  co-ordinated  concep- 
tion of  good  and  had  in  literature  and  the  reasons  therefore, 
there  is  none.  He  may  possess,  and  he  undoubtedly  does  possess, 
deep  in  his  inner  consciousness  some  definite  standard  of  judg- 
ment by  which  he  measures  all  literature.  Yet  never  does  he 
undertake  to  indicate  specifically  why  a particular  work  accords 
with  that  conception,  or,  falls  short  of  it.  For  him  a work  is 
to  be  judged  wholly  upon  the  strength  of  its  appeal  to  the  reader; 
therefore  he  proceeds  to  present  first  his  own  impressions,  and 
second,  examples  cf  the  passages  from  which  they  are  derived. 

He  quotes  incessantly,  choosing  such  passages  as  stimulate  his 
own  emotions  most  powerfully,  and  presenting  them  with  vigor  and 
enthusiasm.  But,  while  such  criticism  may  be  of  value  in  induc- 
ing the  readers  tc  become  familiar  with  the  originals,  there  is 
a decided  question  as  to  the  fulfillment  cf  the  true  purpose  of 
criticism,  the  determination  of  the  value  of  a work  in  the  field 
of  literature. 

In  order  to  appreciate  Wilson's  true  ranking  as  an  impres- 
sionistic critic,  however,  it  is  necessary  to  discuss  such 
characteristics  as  are  evidenced  in  the  general  subject  matter 
of  tbe  essays.  Perhaps  the  first  thing  of  interest  is  to  deter- 
mine, as  nearly  as  it  is  oossible  to  determine  anything  with 


17 


Wilson,  just  what  his  literary  likes  and  dislikes  are,  and  how 
such  tastes  illustrate  his  characteristics  aa  a critic.  Fore- 
ir.ost  amongst  the  former  stands  hi3  love  of  any  piece  of  liter- 
ature, he  it  poetry  or  prose,  that  can  reproduce  with  accuracy 
and  animation  the  grandeur  and  the  sweep  of  warfare.  With  the 
clash  of  the  battle,  with  the  elementary  passions  it  represents, 
with  the  vigor  and  the  energy  of  it  all,  his  very  spirit  seems 
to  be  akin.  Again  and  again  he  thrills  to  it,  becoming  enthus- 
iastically appreciative  of  the  war  descriptions  in  the  poetry 
of  Homer,  Macaulay,  or  Scott. 

(3) 

Take  the  long  passage  concerning  the  wrath  of  Achilles  , 

for  example,  and  note  how  Wilson  traces  the  progress  of  that 

quarrel  through  all  its  various  stages  of  fierce  passion,  dumb 

rage,  and  withering  scorn.  Again  how  keenly  he  responds  to  the 

thrilling  martial  call  and  rapid  onward  movement  of  Lori  Macaulay b 

"Lavs  of  Ancient  Rome”,  whether  it  is  "Horatius  at  the  Bridge", 

of  which  he  says,  " We  do  dearly  love  to  see  a poem  of  action  get 

over  the  ground;*'  or  the  life  and  fire,  the  appropriate  rhythm 

and  swing  of  the  "Eat tie  of  Lake  Regillus,"  "It  is  that  blind, 

fierce  tumult  that  gives  to  war  it 3 essential  grandeur,"  he 

says,  and  then  proceeds  to  elaborate.  "The  unconquerable  powers 

of  courage  and  thought,  struggling  and  maintaining  their  own 

supremacy  in  the  midst  of  horrible  and  raging  destruction,  is 

essentially  sublime Then  there  is  the  effect  of  the  beauty 

of  material  power,  the  splendor  of  arms  and  array  - the  magnifi- 

cencs  cf  horses  charging  through  cloud3  of  smoke,  throngs  of  men, 
T5)  VIII,  pp . 14  - 33. 


... 


. 


- 


i 


1 


. 


'•  * > - 

- 

\ • ' . 


'.  * > -*• 


* 


* 


. 


- 


/-•.  . f 


• f 


' 1 


• 


- 16  - 

or  rivers  - the  admiration  with  which  we  look  upon  the  strength 

stature,  ani  speed  of  men  when  ministering'  to  the  work  of  their 

spirit.  The  very  thunder  of  the  cannon  is  sublime,  because  it 

is  a voice  of  destructive  power,  as  the  peal  that  rolls  through 

the  heavens  - the  bellowing  of  volcanoes,  - the  flash  in  which 

the  concentrated  essence  of  destruction  is  visible  to  the  eye. u 

"War”,  he  sums  up,  "brings  the  usually  indefinite  shapes  of  the 

great  agencies  and  processes  of  national  events  for  a moment 

into  distinct  and  palpable  reality,  giving  to  the  indefinite, 

(4) 

invisible  powers  a momentary  presence  in  human  life." 

Nor  is  Wilson's  appreciation  confined  to  the  long  and  mar- 
tial ballads  of  Lord  Macaulay;  indeed  he  displays  a decided 
fondness  for  the  true  hallai  or  song  wherever  found.  "Some  of 
our  old  ballads,  breathed  in  the  gloom  of  forests  or  glens  by 
Shephards  or  woodsmen,  are  in  their  earnest  simplicity  inimitahle- 

Shepherds  and  woodsmen  too,  there  have  been  in  later  years  who 

(5) 

have  sometimes  caught  the  spirit  of  the  antique  strain." 

Such  men,  indeed,  are  few,  but  when  they  do  appear  they  cannot 
be  mistaken.  The  reader  feels  in  their  songs,  not  any  light, 
careless  mood  assumed  for  the  moment  , no  tone  of  moralizing  or 
philosophizing,  no  spirit  of  bravado  or  defiance,  but  a note  of 
absolute  sincerity  - a voice  from  the  very  innermost  soul  of 
the  singer  that  cannot  fail  to  awaken  a responsive  chord  in  his 

U)  VII.  pp . 366  - 42C 
(5)  VI.  p.  143. 


- 19 


hearers.  The  very  passion  of  the  utterance,  the  very  genuineness 

of  the  feeling,  make  such  songs,  says  Wilson,  ’’cleave  to  the 

(6) 

heart  until  your  dying  day,”  and  cause  u3  to  echo  the  sentiments 

of  the  Shepherd,  "A  man  may  he  sair  mistaken  about  mony  things  - 

such  as  yepies,  and  tragedies,  and  tales,  and  hymns, and  the 

(?) 

like  - but  he  canna  be  mistaken  about  a sang." 

Again, Wilson, is  keenly  responsive  to  the  broad  historical 

pageantry  of  Sir  Walter  Scott  - his  canvass  crowded  with  the 

mighty  men  of  the  past,  his  action  reproducing  the  great  and 

glorious  events  of  many  ages,  with  all  the  vitality  and  animation 

of  the  life  itself.  "There  are  as  many  real  men  in  his  poetry 

as  the  mighty  men  of  old  in  cur  annals  and  history- we  find 

ourselves  hurried  from  this  our  civilized  age  back  into  the 

troubled  bosom  of  semi -barbarous  life,  and  made  keen  partakers 

(6) 

in  ail  its  impassioned  and  poetic  credulities."  He  touched 

the  tombs  with  a divining  rod  and  turf  streamed  out  ghosts  - 

some  in  woodsmen's  dresses  - most  in  warrior's  mail;  green 

archers  leaped  forth  with  yew  bow  and  quivers  - and  giants  stalked 

shaking  spears.  The  grey  chronicler  smiled;  and,  taking  up 

his  pen,  wrote  in  lines  of  light,  the  annals  of  the  chivalrous 

(9) 

and  heroic  days  of  auld  feudal  Scotland." 

In  this  connection  also  there  comes  Wilson's  treatment  of 


(6)  I. . p.  183. 
(?)  I.  p.  163 

(8)  V . p . 368 

(9)  IX,  p.  192. 


- 20  - 

Byron's  "Childe  Harold,"  in  which,  indeed,  he  mingles  both  praise 
and  blame.  In  as  far  is  the  poem  lacks  fire  and  passion  - the 
first  two  cantos  - it  is  condemned;  in  a3  far  as  it  is  imitative 
of  Wordsworth's  nature  descriptions  - the  third  canto  - it  is 
praised  with  reservations.  But  when  he  reaches  the  fourth  canto, 
Wilson's  enthusiasm  is  inflamed  and  he  pronounces  it  « glorious ." 
"With  all  the  fair  and  great  objects  in. the  world  of  art  Byron 

here  dealt  like  a poet  of  original  genius The  impetuosity  of 

his  career  is  astonishing;  never  for  a moment  does  his  imagin- 
ation flag;  ever  and  anon  he  stoops  but  to  soar  with  a more 

(10) 

majestic  sweep."  "Eyron  locks  back  to  the  tombs  of  these  great 
men  'that  stand  in  assured  rest,'  and,  gazing  as  it  were  on  the 
bones  of  a more  gigantic  race,  his  imagination  then  teems  with 
corresponding  births,  and  he  holds  converse  with  the  mighty  in 
language  worthy  to  be  heard  by  the  spirits  of  the  mighty. His 

(ii) 

poetry  is  then  a dark,  but  still  a divine  revelation." 

The  stir  and  firs  of  battle  or  the  steady  onward  march  cf 
history  are  however,  not  the  only  things  in  litera.ture  to  which 
Wilson  is  responsive.  A keen  lover  cf  nature  he  loves  whatever 
works  successfully  reproduce  it,  whether  in  its  broad  outlines, 
simple  beauties,  or  as  a revelation  cf  the  depper,  mystic  elements 
lof  life.  Herein  too  he  displays  on  occasion  a real  capacity  for 
judging,  mingled  with  a prevailing  generousity  and  a keen  sympathy 


(10)  XX,  p . 192. 

(11)  V.  p.  390. 


21 


with  many  different  temperaments.  How  sympathetically  he  treats 
the  preternatural  dream  poems  of  Coleridge,  with  all  their  elu- 
sive music  and  haunting  beauty.  Beauty  of  structure  and  form 
Coleridge  certainly  has;  rhythm  and  melody  are  present  in  every 
line;  while  the  loveliness  of  his  nature  description  is  not  the 
least  part  of  his  charm.  Yet  on  none  of  these  things  does  Wilson 
choose  to  dwell.  Instead,  he  signals  out  the  one  quality  that 
is  distinctive  in  these  works,  that  strange  quality  of  imagination 
that  enters  into  and  colors  all  that  Coleridge  writes.  "His  wak- 
ing thoughts  had  all  the  vividness  of  vision,  all  the  v-rious 
of  dreams;  his  beautiful  reveries  were  often  like  revelations, 
for  Fancy  and  Imagination  arrayed  life  in  such  many  colored  rad- 
ience  that  they  grew  all  divine  «0 f the  beauty  and  grandeur  of  a 
thousand  dreams,  one  beautiful  or  grand  dream  is  built;  and 
there  it  gleams  or  glooms  among  entities  recognized  as  illustra- 
tions of  the  mystery  of  life  - unsubstantial  but  real  - a fiction 
but  a truth." 

So, too,  in  the  midst  of  his  scathing  criticism  of  Tennyson's 
early  poems  he  is  by  no  means  blind  to  the  qualities  that  were  in 
future  to  make  the  poet  laureate.  His  remarks  on  the  quality  of  th 
words  - the  relation  of  sound  and  sense  illustrated  in  the  ex- 
quisitely pathetic  atmosphere  of  the  "Deserted  House"  - give 
evidence  of  acute  and  generous  appreciation.  Indeed  it  is  note- 
worthy that  he  closes  this  essay  with  a note  of  prophecy  concern- 
ing the  poet's  future  - "that  the  day  would  come  when  beneath  3un 


i* 


- 22  - 


and  shower,  his  genius  would  grow  up  and  expand  into  a 3tately 

tree,  embowering  a solemn  3hade  within  its  wide  circumference , 

and  that  millions  would  confirm  his  judgment  'that  Tennyson  is 

(12) 

a p oe  t ^ 1 " 

Eut  it  is  in  his  treatment  of  Wordsworth  that  both  hi 3 

appreciation  and  his  powers  of  discrimination  reach  their  highest 

point.  Again  and  again  he  pays  him  tribute  in  the  " Noe tes , " 

in  the  introduction  to  "A  Stroll  to  Grasmere,"  and  in  the  long 

(13) 

and  decidedly  irrelevant  preface  to" The  Moors."  His  "sublime 

benignity,"  his  devotion  to  the  "stillness  of  contemplation," 

his  sincere  Christianity,  all  are  touched  upon.  "His  seeming 

self  abstraction  from  the  turmoil  of  life  scives  to  his  highest 

(14) 

poetry  a still  and  religious  quality  that  is  truly  sublime." 

"Wordsworth  takes  it  for  granted  that  people  can  see  and  hear, 

’ (15) 

he  wants  to  make  them  feel  and  understand."  "He  imbued  and 

made  Nature  pregnant  with  spiritualities  till  the  mightv  Mother 

(16) 

teems  with  beauty  for  more  beauteous."  "Eis  imagination 
possessed  a beautifying  and  transmit! ing  power  over  the  objects 

of  the  inaminate  world He  is  the  high  priest  of  nature,  the 

benefactor  of  humanity  who  has  purified  its  passions  by  the  same 
processes;  that  magnify  their  power,  and  showing  how  the  soul  in 
ebb  and  flow  and  when  its  tide  is  at  the  full,  may  be  at  once  as 


(12)  Mrs.  Garden.  Christopher  North,  pp . 340  -344. 

(13)  III,  pp.  234  - 236. 

(14)  V.  pp.  3S0,  394,  400. 

(15)  V . p . 

(16)  IX,  p.  164. 


- ?3  - 


(1?) 

strong  and  serene  as  the  sea."  Yet,  much  as  he  admired  the 
serenity  and  beauty  of  Wordsworth's  poetry,  he  was  not  blind 
to  its  faults,  as  evidenced  by  the  following  comment  in  hi3 
essay  on  Shakespeare:  "Re  wa3  a poet  of  meditation:  his  sym- 

de) 

pathieSewith  passions  were  very  imperfect.”  Therefore  he  is 
inferior  to  the  master  dramatist;  therefore,  although  he  may 
be  perfect  in  his  own  field,  he  lacks  the  universal  genius  of  the 
world's  greatest  poet." 

And  lastly  Wilson  entertains  at  all  times  a profound  rev- 
erence for  noble  womanhood,  and  values  whatever  literature  pre- 
sents it.  Tennyson's  "delicate  perception  of  the  purity  of 
female  character"  is  immediately  and  favorably  signalized.  Of 
Claribel , Isabel,  Mariana,  Oriana,  and  the  rest  he  says,  "Their 
names  and  their  natures  are  delightful,  sound  and  sight  are 

spiritualized  thev  are  the  objects  not  of  passion  but  of 

(19) 

affection."  Something  of  the  same  attitude  is  seen  too  in  his 
treatment  of  Calppso,  beautiful,  loving,  and  about  to  be  deserted. 
The  exquisite  beauty  of  the  mythical  setting,  the  utter  hopeless- 
ness of  her  love,  and  the  stern  finality  of  her  renunciation, 

all  are  dwelt  upon  in  a manner  that  serves  to  bring  out  the 

(20)  . 

element  of  nobility  in  her  nature. 

Such  merits,  however,  are  all  too  frequently  obscured  by 
the  numerous  and  totally  inexcusable  faults  that  are  perpetually 

(17)  X.  p . 344. 

(16)  VII.  p.429. 

(19)  VI,  p . 136. 

.(SO)  VIII,  pp.  341-367. 


24  - 


in  evidence  in  all  Wilson's  criticisms.  Perhaps  the  most  glaring 
of  these  is  his  continual  iiffuseness  and  desultoriness.  It  is 
true  that  in  the  essays  on  Shakespeare  and  Wordsworth  he  does 
make  an  attempt  to  be  systematic,  but  in  the  main  "he  cannot 

(31) 

resist  the  temptation  to  course  any  hare  that  starts."  Take 
the  essay  on  Lord  Macaulay's  "Lays  of  Ancient  Rome,"  for  example. 
Here  Wilson  spends  exactly  eight  pages  in  getting  started  - pages 
devoted  indeed  to  a more  or  less  interesting  statement  of  the 
critic's  own  views  on  the  comparative  merits  of  contemporary 
poetry,  but  nevertheless  related  to  the  main  topic  by  the  slender- 
est kind  of  connection.  Thus  "by  pleasant  circumbendibus"  as 
he  himself  states  does  he  reach  the  real  start ing  po int , where- 
upon, the  reader  is  undoubtedly  ready  tc  admit  the  circumbendibus 
while  at  the  same  time  he  questions  the  pleasure.  Not  content 
with  one  deviation  however,  Wilson  has  scarcely  settled  down  to 
the  subject  in  hand  when  we  find  him  going  off  on  another  tangent, 
and  for  several  paragraphs  we  are  compelled  to  listen  to  a long 
digression  on  the  poetic  possibilities  of  war  - a theme  treated 

with  eloquence  and  enthusiasm  it  is  true,  and  containing  material 

(22) 

enough  for  an  essay  in  itself,  but  none  the  less  irrelevant. 

In  hi3  criticism  on  Tennyson,  also,  Wilson  refusea  to  abide 
absolutely  by  any  set  subject,  but  branches  off  in  one  place  in 
an  intense  appreciation  of  the  beauties  of  Scottish  scenery, 

(21)  Saint sburv,  "A  History  of  Criticism,"  v,  3,  p.  475. 

(22)  VII,  pP , 366  - 430 . 


25 


evidenced  in  particular  by  the  "heron  haunted  isle  a"  of  Lech 
(23) 

Lamond.  "An  Hour's  Talk  about  Poetry"  contains  several  3uch 

digressions,  as,  for  example,  on  the  comparative  merits  of  female 

(24)  ‘ (24) 

writers,  the  quality  and  power  of  Scotch  3ongs  and  songsters, 

and  a spirited  defense  of  the  Scotch  treatment  of  Burns  a3  com- 

(24) 

pared  with  the  English  attitude  toward  Bloomfield. 

It  is  this  very  fault  more  than  anything  else  that  haa  de- 
prived of  any  permanent  value  Wilson's  longer  essays.  "The 
Spenser,"  for  example,  is  full  three  hundred  pages  in  length,  yet 
it  is  almost  entirely  devoted  to  the  first  book  of  the  Faerie 
Q.ueen  alone.  "Dies  Boreali3"  is  a discussion  of  certain  of 
Shakespeare's  plays  and"Paradi3e  Lost,"  but  shows  a decided  in- 
ability to  settle  to  the  subject  in  hand.  And  the  "Specimens  of 
the  British  Critics"  - an  all  conclusive  title  - proves  to  be 
but  a copious  treatment  of  the  critical  utterances  of  Dry  den  and 
Pope.  Moreover  it  abounds  in  irrelevant  material,  discussing 
these  men  as  satirists,  and  playwrights,  dwelling  upon  the  respect- 
ive merits  of  their  rhymes,  -■ , and  even  introducing  a long  digres- 
sion, on  the  works  and  verse  of  Geoffrey  Chaucer. 

Besides  being  immensely  diffuse,  however,  Wilson  is  decidedly 
capricious.  Nor  can  this  cap riciousne 33  be  excused  by  a decided 
change  of  critical  principles  at  any  period  of  his  life.  Indeed 
it  seems  to  be  due  solely  and  completely  to  the  constantly  vary- 
ing humors  of  the  author.  What  he  happened  to  feel  at  the  moment, 

(23)  VI,  pp  . 145-146. 

(24)  IX,  pp.  194:  205:  216. 


26  - 


he  wrote,  whether  it  were  praise  or  blame.  But  the  difficulty 
lay  in  the  fact  that  his  moods  were  seldom  twice  alike,  so  that 
a compilation  of  his  opinions  regarding  any  one  writer  would 
necessarily  prove  grossly  inconsistent.  Nor  is  this  capricious- 
ness in  any  sense  confined  to  the  lesser  authors  of  the  age;  it 
extends  even  to  the  leading  literary  figures.  Indeed,  not  the 
least  incomprehensible  part  of  his  character  as  a critic  is  his 
seemingly  unconquerable  tendency  to  attack  even  those  whom  he 
ranked  among  his  friends,  and  whom  under  ordinary  circumstances 
he  reverenced  and  admired.  Thus,  in  3pite  of  the  sound  criticism 
elsewhere  delivered  upon  these  men  , we  find  Scott  and  Coleridge 
both  rather  violently  assailed  in  different  Noctes.  "Scott's 

poetry  is  often  bad.  Except  when  his  martial  soul  is  up  he  is 

(35) 

but  a feeble  and  tame  writer,"  while  in  another  place  the 

Shepherd  remarks,  "The  author  of  'Cristabel'  and  'The  Ancient 

Mariner'  had  better  just  continue  to  see  visions  and  to  dream 

(26) 

dreams,  for  he's  no  fit  for  the  wakin'  world."  Nor  is  Words- 
worth allowed  to  pass  unscathed:  "He  often  writes  like  an  idiot— 

a few  ballads, pret ty  at  best,  two  or  three  moral  fables,  some 
natural  descriptions  of  scenery  and  half  a dozen  variations  of 
common  distress  or  hapriness.  Not  cne  single  character  has  he 
created,  not  one  incident,  not  cne  tragical  cat ast rophe-- — . And 
then  how  ludicrously  he  over-rates  his  own  powers.  This  we  all 

do,  but  Wordsworth's  pride  is  like  a straw-c rowned  King  of 

(3?) 

Bedlam ." 

(25)  I . p . 37 . 

(26)  I , p . 350 

(37)  I.  np  . 34  - 36 . 


- 27  - 

This  leads  to  the  discussion  of  another  and  equally  deplor- 
able weakness  in  Wilson's  criticism,  namely  that  he  frequently 
quiltv  of  critical  incivility  of  the  worst  sort,  total  disregard 
of  the  strength  and  even  at  times  absolute  coarseness  of  his 
blows.  Perhaps  the  best  illustration  of  this  is  to  be  found  in 
the  famous  onslaught  on  Tennyson's  early  poems,  characterized  as 

"the  queerest  jumble  of  sound  and  unsound  criticism  that  exists 

(26) 

in  the  archives  of  that  art."  Here  we  find  ridicule,  gross 
personalities  and  even  indulgence  in  terms  of  the  most  violent 
abuse.  To  the  critic  the  young  poet  was  a "Cockney,"  and  there- 
fore suffered  accordingly,  for  of  all  the  faults  in  Wilson's 
category,  " Cockney  ism"  was  the  worst.  "Were  they  to  church,"  he 

(29) 

remarks,  satirically,  "we  should  be  tempted  to  break  the  Sabbath." 

Whereupon  he  proceeds  to  indulge  in  a long  and  bitter  attack  upon 

mere  versifiers,  calculated  to  counteract  effectively  any  praise 

they  may  have  received.  The  poems,  he  declares,  are  "a  perfect 

specimen  of  the  superhyperbol ical  ultra  extravagance  of  outrageous 
„ , . (30) 

Cockney  eulogistic  foolishness."  Nor  does  he  refrain  from  in- 
dulging in  undisguised  abuse:  "Versifying  operatures  are  almost 

always  half-witted  creatures,  adiicted  to  drinking,  and  sell  their 
songs  for  alms."  Indeed  at  times  he  even  becomes  directly  per- 
sonal, as  in  his  comments  on  the  shorter  nature  poems:  "-Alfred 

is  greatest  as  an  Owl all  that  he  needs  is  to  be  shot,  stuffed, 

(28)  Saintsbury,  "Essays  in  English  Literature."  p.  292. 

(29)  VI,  p.  109, 

(3$)  VI,  p.  124. 


28  - 


(31) 

and  stuck  in  a glass  case,  to  be  made  immortal  in  a museum.” 

Were  such  rabid  statements  as  these  Wilson's  only  critical 
diet  a,  it  is  evident  that  his  criticism  would  long  ere  now  have 
been  forgotten.  But  that  real  and  permanent  judgments  are  to  be 
found  elsewhere  in  no  way  excuses  Wilson's  giving  free  rein  to 
what  Saintsbury  calls  his  "ugly  moods.”  And  it  is  just  such 
outbursts  as  these,  unchecked  and  unjustified,  that  deprive  his 
criticisms  of  any  lasting  worth. 

Concerning  Wilson's  general  critical  style  but  little  need 
be  said.  That  the  diction  is  in  all  cases  forceful  and  energetic, 
and  that  the  vocabulary  is  rich  and  varied  show 3 beyond  doubt 
that  had  his  substance  been  cf  value,  Wilson  had  ability  to  give 
it  adequate  expression.  At  times  indeed  he  even  displays  a cer- 
tain faculty  of  neat  and  pointed  phraseology,  which  duly  culti- 
vated, might  have  resulted  in  critical  statements  that  all  who 
read  would  remember.  Of  the  Daphn&ida  he  says,  ” Thus  here  are 
many  elegies  in  one:  but  that  one  is  as  much  a whole  as  the 

sad  sky  with  all  its  misty  stars.”  Of  Tennyson's  word  melody 
he  3ay3,  ”It  is  not  necessary  that  ws  should  understand  fine 
poetry  in  order  to  feel  and  enjoy  it,  any  more  than  fine  musicj” 
while  speaking  of  Homer  and  the  Classics  he  says  with  an  attempt 
at  epigram,  ”The  animosities  are  mortal,  but  the  humanities  live 
forever,”  Hundreds  of  these  things,  indeed, II#  scattered  about 
his  rage 3,  dicta  that  may  not  display  any  particular  profundity 


(31)  VI,  pp . 130  - 131 . 


29 


of  thought,  hut  which  in  their  strai ghtf orwardne ss  and  simplicity 
give  evidence  of  a peculiar  aptness  of  phrase,  that,  had  Wilson 
chosento  develops  it,  might  have  lent  distinction  to  his  writings. 

But  far  too  frequently  such  phrasing  is  permitted  to  sink 
into  bombast  on  the  one  hand,  or  bathos  on  the  other.  Instead 
of  being  master  of  his  emotions  and  thoughts,  Wilson  allows  them 
to  master  him,  and  his  language  suffers  accordingly.  While  he 
is  indulging  in  bitter  tirades  against  his  fellow  authors,  his 
expression  generally  becomes  colloquial  or  crude;  while  he  is 
voicing  his  intense  and  enthusiastic  appreciations  of  the  things 
he  likes  it  becomes  florid  and  extravagant , Never  is  it  consist- 
ently good  for  any  length  of  time,  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  is 
it  ever  entirely  bad.  Indeed  even  in  his  poorest  work  there  are 
present  many  redeeming  qualities.  But  where  so  much  of  hi3  work 
is  bad,  where  glaring  mistakes  continually  arrest  our  attention, 
the  meritorious  is  liable  to  b s so  completely  eclipsed  that  it 
escapes  our  notice. 

Thus,  although  Wilson's  criticism  presents  some  outstanding 
merits,  the  faults  seem  fated  to  predominate.  Suggestive  and 
stimulating  he  undoubtedly  is,  life  and  energy  and  direct  forceful 
expression  abound  in  all  he  wrote.  But  when  hi3  readers  are 
compelled  to  -wade  through  pages  upon  pages  of  totally  irrelevant 
material  in  order  to  arrive-  at  anything  of  lasting  worth,  it  is 
safe  to  conclude  that  the  public  as  a whole  will  pass  him  by. 


30 


Diffuseness  is  a bad  fault  anywhere,  but  absolutely  fatal  in 
critical  literature  that  wishes  to  live.  A critic  has  consider- 
able difficulty  in  reaching  posterity  at  any  time,  but  When  hi3 
work  is  overwhelmed  with  superfluous  material,  often  fantastic, 
and  sometimes  not  even  remotely  connected  with  the  subject,  he 

is  bound  to  fail.  "To  terseness,"  says  Saintsbury,  "the  critics 

(32) 

owe  half  their  immortality." 

Thus  Wilson's  faults  result  in  lack  of  directness,  method, 
clean  and  clear  critical  grip  that  is  continuous  and  all  pervad- 
ing. In  short,  although we  are  keenly  alive  to  such  merits  as  he 
does  possess,  we  are  on  the  whole compelled  to  agree  with  the 
final  dictum  of  Gilfillan  concerning  Wilson's  critical  writings: 
"Splendid  passages  and  inestimable  thoughts  of  course  abound  in 
all  that  he  wrote,  but  the  want  of  persuasive  purpose,  of  con- 
densation, and  of  finish  has  denied  true  unity  and  perhaps  per- 

(33) 

manent  power  to  his  writings.” 


32)  "A  History  of  Criticism,"  p.  477. 

33)  "A  Gallery  of  Literarv  Portraits,”  p.  3£9 . 


r 31 


CHAPTER  II 

DESCRIPTIVE  NARRATION 

Leaving;  the  field  of  Wilson's  criticise,  however,  for  we 
have  alreadv  decided  that  no  permanent  fame  can  ever  rest  upon 
that,  we  turn  to  a second  and  very  extensive  division  of  his 
work,  namely  his  essays  upon  sport,  athletics,  and  scenery.* 

Here  it  is  that  Wilson  really  succeeds  in  reaching-  the  ear  of  the 
public,  for  while  criticism  is  very  seldon  read  by  any  but  critics 
or  students,  there  is  ever  an  ample  audience  for  the  man  who  can 
write  of  the  great  cut  cf  doors.  Unquestionably,  toe,  Wilson 
is  at  his  best  on  these  subjects,  for,  although  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  his  faults  pursue  him  even  here,  and  that  he  is  apt 
to  digress  at  any  moment  on  politics,  religion,  or  morals,  yet 
these  faults  are  nowhere  so  little  in  evidence  as  when  he  loses 
himself  in  some  rapturous  description  of  natural  beauty,  or  some 
enthusiastic  reproduction  of  the  scenes  of  sporting  life. 

Before  taking  up  any  detailed  analysis  cf  these  essays, 
however,  let  us  take  a brief  survey  of  their  general  themes, 
noting  which  subjects  Wilson  chooses  to  discuss,  and  which  he 
avoids  entirely.  Sneaking  generally,  the  essays  fall  into  two 
main  divisions,  - those  dealing  with  sport  itself,  those  dealing 
with  the  scenery  of  English  Lakes  or  Scottish  Highlands.  Out Aide 
this  field  Wilson  seldom  if  ever  ventures,  although  he  seems  to 
have  had  ample  opportunity  for  broadening  his  sphere  of  interest. 

Undoubtedly  he  must  frequently  have  visited  the  coast,  who  can 


32 


live  long  in  Scotland  and  neglect  to  do  so?  - yet  never  does  the 
ocean  figure  in  his  descriptions  other  than  in  general  references 
or  allusion.  His  home  for  many  years  was  in  Edinburgh,  the 
historic  Scottish  capital,  yet  rarely  does  he  respond  to  the 
romantic  charm  of  the  place,  its  shadowy  traditions,  its  old 
fashioned  undeviating  method  of  life,  and  its  echoes  of  bygone 
ages.  Not  even  Edinburgh  castle  has  power  to  arouse  his  interest 
sufficiently  to  induce  him  to  write  about  it.  No,  Wilson  does 
not  re  si?  oni  to  the  beauty  created  bv  men:  his  field  is  limited 

to  the  one  phase  of  nature  he  knew  and  understood,  But  in  that 
one  field  he  not  infrequently  displays  himself  a master.  Of  the 
scenery  of  loch  and  lake,  hill  and  mountain,  he  was  at  once  an 
ardent  lover  and  an  enthusiastic  describer.  The  cloud  capped 
mountain  peaks  and  purple  moors,  silent  glens,  and  dusky  mountain 
tarns  of  the  Scottish  Highlands:  the  smooth  green  lawns  and  cloud 

effects  of  the  fleecy  white,  the  extensive  forests  of  oak  and 
placid  mirrcr-like  surface  of  the  7/aters  in  the  English  lake 
district:  the  progress  of  the  sportsman  from  youth  to  maturity, 

through  all  the  stages  in  fishing  in  burn  and  river  and  lake,  or 
3hccting  and  coursing  on  mountain  and  moor  - all  these  things 
alike  stimulated  his  interest  and  fired  his  imagination.  He 
does  not,  however,  stop  to  note  individual  beauties  of  these 
scenes  he  loved  - the  delicate  tracery  of  the  moss  fiber,  ex- 
quisite tints  of  the  woodland  flowers,  or  infinite  variety  of 
mountain  fern.  Such  things  do  not  interest  him  beyond  a passing 
glance.  It  is  the  broad,  sweeping  effect  of  the  landscape  as  a 


33  - 


whole  that  arrests  his  attention,  and  that  he  is  desirous  of 
conveying  to  his  readers.  The  apparently  unlimited  view  from 
the  summit  of  some  high,  mountain,  the  long  stretches  of  rolling 
moorland,  and  the  wide  expanse  of  shining  water  in  the  inland  1 
lake,  - such  sights  roused  all  the  enthusiasm  of  his  perfervid 
nature  and  3ome  bright  and  characteristic  passages  result. 

Let  us  therefore  turn  our  attention  tc  the  analysis  of  this 
peculiar  genius,  and,  by  a detailed  examination  of  both  substance 
and  style,  determine  just  what  its  constituent  elements  are. 
Perhaps  the  greatest  factor  of  distinction  in  Wilson's  scenic 
writings  is  the  enthusiasm  with  which  he  colors  them.  Indeed, 
whether  he  is  portraying  the  scenes  of  sporting  life,  or  the 
grandeur  of  Highland  mountain  and  loch,  or  the  peaceful  beauty 
of  English  meadow  and  lake,  his  treatment  of  the  subject  is 
marked  by  a decided  exuberance  and  gusto.  Wilson  overflows  with 
sheer  animal  spirits,  he  has  a riotous  joy  in  just  being  alive, 
so  that  most  of  the  time  the  out  of  doors  appears  tc  him  as  a 
vast  pleasure  ground.  Take  for  example  the  intensity  of  his  joy 
in  the  mere  external  aspects  of  nature.  Never  does  his  zest 
diminish,  but  whether  her  aspect  is  stormy  or  tranquil,  whether 
the  landscape  lies  smiling  in  the  sunshine,  or  is  overcast  with 
glcom,  Wilson  finds  therein  ample  reason  for  ardor  ani  enthusiasm. 
Take  again. his  spirited  treatment  of  the  activities  of  boyhood 
and  youth  - how  vivacious  are  his  descriptions  of  their  early 
contrivances  for  fishing  and  shooting,  how  glowing  his  account 


34 


of  cat  chasing  - rather  sneakingly  and  half-heartedly  apologized 
for  elsewhere  - in  the  "Sporting  Jacket."  With  what  rapid  daring 
strokes  does  he  sketch  the  various  stae-es  of  youthful  develop- 
ment, with  what  infinite  relish  does  he  unfold 'the  various  aspir- 
ations and  accomplishments  of  each.  Follow  their  progress  to 

sp  ort 

maturity  and  Wilson*  3 response  to  the  spirit  of  manly/ is  no  less 

keen  - the  straight  and  "strengthy  stripling"  with  his  limber 

in 

twenty  foot  red  and  glittering  attenuating  line /swift  and  savage 
pursuit  of  the  baited  salmon.  Trace  the  various  3ta]ges  of  the 
chase  with  its  repeated  calls  for  strength,  ingenuity  and  skill, 
as  the  baited  fish  plunges  onward  past  rocks  and  flooded  falls, 
endless  deeps  and  treacherous  shallows,  endangering  alike  rod, 
line,  and  swift  pursuer  in  the  break  neck  pace.  Such  a descrip- 
tion is  rendered  with  an  ansrgy,  fire,  and  dash  that  must  per- 
force arrest  the  attention  of  the  sportsman  and  cause  him  to 
live  over  again  in  memory  like  scenes  of  his  own  experience. 

There  is  about  it,  moreover,  a certain  raciness,  a certain  breezy 
quality  in  tune  with  the  freshness  and  freedom  of  the  out  of 
doors  it  presents,  that  conveys  to  the  reader  something  of  the 
exhileration  of  the  fresh  mountain  air,  the  eniivenment  of  the 
sport,  and  the  invigorat ion  of  the  strenuous  physical  exercise. 

Throughout  this  material  moreover,  there  may  be  found  real- 
istic scenes  of  true  beauty  and  worth,  appearing  chiefly  where 
Wilson  is  not  making  any  conscious  effort  to  describe.  Thus  they 
are  frequently  less  profuse,  consequently  more  graphic.  Several 


' , J 


' V- 

- 


. 


. 


- 


• . 


- 35  - 

elements  contribute  to  this  realism,  as  for  example  a strong 

natural  power  of  observation,  a native  susceptibility  of  the  eye 

to  color  and  form,  and  an  ability  of  selecting  significant  details 

and  sketching  a picture  in  a few  bold  sweeping  strokes.  Such 

characteristics  are  to  be  noted  in  his  descriptions  of  nature  and 

of  people  alike.  The  presentation  of  the  four  great  lakes  of 

Eritain,  Awe,  Lamond,  Windermere  and  Killamey  - Ben  Cruachin, 

the  "Old  Man  of  Con  is tan,"  and  Glen  Etive  and  Barrowdale  amply 

illustrate  the  former,  for,  while  none  of  these  descriptions 

exceed  a page  in  length  they  are  clear  cut,  graphic,  and  richly 

colored  as  nature  itself.  In  one  sentence  he  gives  a general 

conception  of  Glen  Etive:  "Straight  stretches  the  glen  lor 

leagues,  and  then,  bending  through  the  blue  gloom,  seems  to  wind 

away  with  one  sweep  into  infinitude,"  "Loch  Lomond,"  he  says, 

" is  a sea  in  its  whole  length  and  breadth  unbroken,  though  be- 

dropped  with  un-numbe red  isles, and  the  shores  diversified  with 

jutting  cape  and  far  shooting  peninsula  enclosing  sweet  seculsicns 

each  in  itself  a loch.  And  there  stands  the  Ben  — serene ewitfc 

(2) 

his  own  loch  at  his  feet."  Again  he  pictures  Loch  Awe,  "which-- 

locks  like  a river.  Pleasant  are  his  many  hills  and  magni:  icent  h 
his  one  mountain.  For  you  see  but  Cruachin.  He  i3  the  master 
spirit.  Call  him  the  noblest  of  Scotland's  Kings.  His  subjects 
are  princes  and  gloriously  they  range  about  him,  stretching  high, 
wide,  and  far  away,  yet  all  owing  visible  allegiance  to  him,  their 


Tl)~~IX,  p.  294. 
(3)  IX,  p.  376. 


36  - 


sole  and  undisputed  sovereign.  The  rising  and  the  setting  sun 

do  him  homage Green  are  the  shores  as  emerald.  But  the  dark 

heather  with  its  purple  bloom  sleeps  in  somber  shadow  over  wide 

regions  of  dusk,  and  there  is  an  austere  character  in  the  cliffs. 

Moors  and  mosses  intervene  between  holms  and  meadows,  and  these 

(3) 

blacr  spots  are  streaks  of  last  year'3  peats. 

In  the  second  group,  namely  his  descriptions  of  people  and 
of  customs  two  passages  in  particular  are  noteworthy.  The  first, 
a description  of  an  Edinburgh  dinner  party  in  the  twenties  re- 
veals .'nil  son’s  vein  of  social  satire.  » In  Edinburgh  there  i3 
par  excellence  no  fashionable  world.  We  are a nation  of  gentle- 

men, and  in  such  you  have  no  idea  how  difficult  it  is  to  make  a 
tashionable  world.  We  are  all  so  vastly  pleasant  and  polite  - low 
c reeding  among  us  is  so  like  high  breeding  in  any  less  distinguish- 
ed district  of  the  globe,  that  persons  who  desire  to  be  conspic- 
uous for  the  especial  elegance  of  their  manners  knew  not  how  to 
set  about  it  - and  let  the  highest  among  them  be  as  fashionable 
as  they  will,  they  will  hear  an  army  of  chairmen ‘gurgling  Gaelic 
half  way  down  their  throats'  as  they  keep  depositing  dowager  after 
dowager,  matron  after  matron,  virgin  after  virgin,  all  'with 
feathers  swaling  in  their  bonnets  and  every  father's  daughter 
among  them  more  fashionable  than  the  other,  in  the  gas  lighted 

hall  of  a place  in  Moray  Play while  the  children  keep  glowering 

and  guffawing  through  the  bannisters  on  the  nursery  story: 

while  ever  and  anen  fashionable  servant  maids  in  female  curicusity, 
(3)  IX,  p.  375 


37  - 


proof  of  an  enlightened  mind,  keep  tripping  to  and  fro,  while  it 

inspires  you  with  a fine  dash  of  melancholy  to  discern  among  the 

butlers,  footmen,  valets,  waiters,  and  so  forth  - many  of  them 

fashionably  powdered  with  oat  and  barley  meal  of  the  finest 

quality  - some  in  and  some  out  of  livery,  blue  breeches  and  red, 

black  breeches  and  gray  - to  behold  among  'these  liveried  angels 

lacks v in g you'  the  faces  of  Saulies,  well  known  at  fashionable 
(4) 

funerals."  Herein  we  observe  Wilson ‘s  peculiar  gifts  - his 
firm  grasp  ox  detail,  and  his  power  of  producing  in  the  reader'3 
mind  a complete  picture  by  means  of  but  a few  rapid  strokes  upon 
the  canvas. 

Nor  are  his  pictures  of  Highland  life  and  customs  les3  good, 
for  he  brings  to  his  moorland  papers  a mind  thoroughly  versed  in 
the  individual  customs  of  the  hills,  steeped  in  their  traditions, 
and  impregnated  with  their  spirit.  Wilson  is  a Scotchman,  a 
Scotchman  in  the  superlative  degree,  and  as  such  is  admirably 
equipped  tc  draw  for  us  his  pictures  of  that  remarkably  individual 
race.  With  the  deft  touch  and  skilful  manipulation  of  detail 
that  characterizes  the  man  thoroughly  familiar  with  his  subject, 
he  proceeds  to  his  task,  unerringly  selecting  the  distinctive 
phases  of  Highland  life.  The  peculiar  superstitions  that  lurk 
in  the  mountains,  peopling  the  woods  with  elves  and  faires  and 
the  streams  with  goblins  and  witches,  and  believing  in  the  immor- 
tality of  ancestral  spirits  in  their  native  glens:  the  wealth 

of  unwritten  traditions  of  love  and  war  preserved  in  fireside 


(4)  VII,  p.  304. 


- 38  - 

tales  from  remotest  antiquity  - both  are  touched  upon  with  an 

aporeciat  ive  insight  and  sympathy.  Again,  in  his  presentation 

(5) 

of  ths  alffiost  idyllic  life  of  the  cottage,  with  lt3  scrupulous 
tidiness,  wholesome  atmosphere  of  simplicity,  uprightness  and 
sincerity,  and,  above  all,  profound  reverence  for  the  Scriptures, 
he  gives  a peculiarly  revealing  glimpse  of  that  spirit  which 
al one  has  made  the  country  great  - the  spirit  so  beautifully  set 
forth  by  Burns  in  his  "Cotter's  Saturday  Night,"  and  of  which  he 
say  s i — 

"From  scenes  like  these  old  Scotia's  grandeur  springs, 

That  makes  her  loved  at  home,  revered  abroad." 

In  sharp  contrast  to  this,  however,  Wilson  presents  another 

picture  not  less  characteristic  of  the  race,  namely,  that  of  the 

rough  condivality  at  the  illicit  distillery.  Remarkably  vivid 

is  the  sketch  of  the  still  itself,  excavated  in  the  mountain 

side,  hidden  in  one  of  the  loveliest  spots  in  the  Highlands, 

approached  by  a carefullv  concealed  and  narrow  path,  and  entered 

(6)  ' of 

by  a door  of  turf.  In  his  method/handling  this  scene,  moreover, 
Wilson  displays  a marked  care  for  truthfulness,  for,  while  he 
sketches  the  merry  making, yet -he  takes  care  to  refute  the  general 

l 

and  mistaken  notion  of  Highland  indulgence.  Lowlaniers  may  use 

liquor  to  excess,  3ays  Wilson,  but  in  the  hills  its  use  is  marked 

by  a self  restraint  that  is  seldom  forgo.tten,  lest  the  strength, 

agility,  and  mental  alertness  on  which  existence  itself  depends, 

T5)  IX,  p.  349~i 
t6)  IX,  p.  354. 


39 


be  impaired. 

Leaving  the  still,  moreover,  and  sailing  down  the  lake  in 

the  evening,  he  gives  us  a detailed  account  of  true  bag-pipe 

music  in  its  native  setting:  first,  the  wild  gathering  challenge 

of  "The  Campbells  are  Coming,"  filling  heaven  and  earth  with 

fierce  martial  music  till  the  mountains  and  even  the  very  clouds 

themselves  seemed  to  take  up  the  notes;  then  the  music  faint  in 

the  distance,  seemingly  the  very  soul  of  the  hills  and  glades; 

and  finally  the  echo,  "flung  from  cliff  to  cliff  until  it  dies 

(7) 

Sway  far-far  off  - as  if  in  infinity." 

Yet,  at  times  it  must  be  admitted  that  Wilson's  realism 
is  somewhat  too  realistic.  Again  and  again  his  unchastened  taste 
crops  out,  making  itself  evident  for  example  in  the  series 
"Christopher  North  in  His  Aviary."  This  group  of  papers  contains 
some  scenes  that  are  unpardonably  revolting  in  theme.  The  horrid- 
ly detailed  account  of  the  ravens  eating  the  dead  Quaker  of 
(S) 

Helvellyn  - a scene  calculated  to  make  the  reader's  gorge  rise 

in  disgust  - is  perhaps  the  worst  of  its  kind  and  amply  illustrates 

the  fault.  Such  things  exist  no  doubt,  but  they  are  obviously 

a 

not -material  for/literary  essay,  they  are  decidedly  repellant, 
deliberately  offending  our  every  sense.  Yet  Wilson's  lack  of 
dsicriminat  ive  power,  - or  as  Carl  vie  so  aptly  puts  it  - "lack 
of  the  central  tie  beam"  made  him  fail  to  perceive  this  fact, 

and  he  all  too  frequently  permits  himself  to  be  betrayed  into 

(7)  >i;,p.  ~ 365.  ~ 

(8)  X,  p.  151. 


, 


w » 

: >'■  1 

, 

> 

- 

■ 

• 

- 

• 

■ 

* 

" ■ 

/ ) ■ 

• 

- , • : 

* 

. 

■ 

1 . 


' ' . . i 


. . 


40 


scenes  of  a coarse  and  disgusting  reality  that  no  amount  of 
subsequent  apology  can  excuse. 

In  the  third  place  Wilson  has  a tendency  to  gild  the  actual 
scene  he  is  describing  with  qualities  that  are  in  reality  the 
product  of  his  own  vivid  imagination.  Not  that  he  sees  in 
nature  a spirit  and  central  purpose  a3  did  Wordsworth,  not  that 
he  reads  therein  a reflection  of  human  life.  Wilson  never  sought 
tc  interpret  more  than  the  external  features  of  nature.  No 
flower  ever  brought  to  him  "Thoughts  that  do  often  lie  too  deep 
for  tears;”  nature  appealed  rather  to  his  boundless  activity 
and  physical  strength  than  to  his  intellect  and  deeper  emotions. 
He  does  however,  invest  his  pictures  with  a richness  and  glow 
that  is  clearly  derived  through  the  medium  of  fancy  rather  than 
from  the  original.  Indeed,  in  the  introduction  to  the  series  of 
descriptive  sketches  as  ”The  Moors,”  he  clearly  states  this  prin- 
ciple. ” Imagination  csn  modify, alter,  obliterate,  restore;  at  a 
breath  she  can  color  vacuity  with  rainbow  hues  - crown  the  cliff 
with  its  castle  - swing  the  drawbridge  over  the  gulf  profound  - 
through  a night  of  woods  roll  the  river  along  on  its  moonlight 
reach  - by  fragmentary  cinctures  of  mist  and  cloud  so  girdle  one 
mountain  that  it  has  the  power  of  a hundred  - giant  rising  above 

giant,  far  and  wide,  as  if  the  mighty  multitude,  in  magnificent 

(9) 

and  triumphant  disorder,  were  indeed  scaling  heaven,” 


(9)  IX,  p,  292. 


• 

. 

• 

- • * 

' i . 


- 


, 


’ 


-V 


. ^ 


41 


The  result  is  threefold.  Occasionally  it  leads  to  fanciful 
scenes  of  a delicacy  and  purity  that  partake  cf  the  true  spirit 
of  poetry.  As  an  example  let  us  quote  a passage  from  the  '’Recre- 
ations." Wilson  has  lust  been  describing  Highland  scenes  of  an 
exquisite  beauty,  enhanced  moreover  by  the  lingering,  "echoes  of 
harp 3 chiming  through  the  silence  of  departed  years."  He  con- 
tinues 

"There  it  was,  on  a little  river  island,  that  once,  whether 
sleeping  or  waking  we  know  not,  we  saw  celebrated  a Fairie s ' Funeral 
: irst  we  heard  the  small  pipes  playing  as  if  no  bigger  than 
hollow  rashes  that  whisper  to  the  night  winds;  and  more  piteous 
than  'iight  that  thrills  from  earthly  instrument  was  the  scarce 
audible  dirge.  It  seemed  to  float  over  the  stream,  till  the 
airy  anthem  came  floating  over  our  couch,  and  then  alighted  with- 
out footsteps  among  the  heather.  The  pattering  of  little  feet 
was  then  heard,  as  if  living  creatures  were  arranging  themselves 
in  order,  and  then  there  was  nothing  but  a more  ordered  hymn.  The 
harmony  was  like  the  melting  of  musical  dew-drops,  and  sang,  with- 
out words,  of  sorrow  and  death.  We  opened  our  eyes,  or  rather 
sight  came  to  them  when  closed,  and  dream  was  vision.  Hundreds 
of  creatures,  no  taller  than  the  crest  cf  the  lapwing,  and  all 
hanging  down  their  veiled  heads,  stood  in  a circle  on  a green 
plat  among  the  rocks;  and  in  the  midst  was  a bier,  a Fairy,  lying 
with  uncovered  face,  pale  as  a lily,  and  motionless  as  the  snow. 

The  dirge  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and  then  died  quite  away; 
when  two  of  the  creatures  came  from  the  circle  and  took  their 


42 


station,  one  at  the  heal  and  one  at  the  foot  cf  the  bier.  They 
sang  alternate  measures,  not  louder  than  the  twittering  of  the 
awakened  wood  lark  before  it  goes  up  in  the  dewey  air,  but  dolor- 
ous and  full  of  the  desolation  of  death;  The  flower  bier  stirred; 
for  the  spot  on  which  it  lay  sank  slowly  down,  and  in  a few  min- 
utes the  greensward  was  smooth  as  ever,  - the  very  dews  glittering 
above  the  buried  Fairy.  A cloud  passed  over  the  moon;  and  with 
a choral  lament,  the  funeral  troop  sailed  duskily  away,  heard 
afar  off,  so' still  was  the  midnight  solitude  of  the  glen.  Then 
the  disenthralled  Orchy  began  to  rejoice  as  before,  through  all 

her  stream.3  and  falls;  and  at  the  sudden  leaping  of  the  waters 

(10) 

and  outburst ing  of  the  moon,  we  awoke. n 

Perhaps  nothing  could  better  convey  the  elusive  beauty  and 
mystery  that  seems  to  haunt  some  sections  of  the  Highlands  - 
than  to  portray  them  as  the  home  cf  the  fairies,  lovely  and 
lonely  enough  to  be  "the  abode  of  a Silent  People  in  a Land  of 
Peace."  Yet  we  must  admit  that  the  conception  is  wholly  fanciful, 
born  of  an  imagination  that  loved  to  read  into  the  scenes  he  ad- 
mired even  greater  loveliness  and  charm  than  they  actually  posr- 
sessei . 

More  frequently,  however,  this  habit  tends  to  intensify  his 
pictures,  to  give  them  a remarkable  rower  and  effectiveness. 

Take  the  evening  voyage  on  the  lake  for  example.  The  actual 
elements  of  the  scene  - a boat  trip  on  a lovely  lake  in  the  moon- 


(10)  IX,  pp  . 295  - 296. 


43 


light  - are  no  doubt  familiar  to  all f except  that  the  unusual 
beauty  of  Loch  Etine  enhances  the  general  charm  and  pleasure  . 

This  beauty  Vi Ison  reproduces  admirably;  "t^e  sylvan  scenery 
gliding  serenely  away  back  into  the  mountain  gloom,"  and  "the 

(11) 

sea  mews  wheeling  white  as  silver  in  the  moonshine,”  hut  hie 

imaginative  power  goes  further  and  intensifies  it.  In  fancy 

the  boat  trip  becomes  a voyage  of  discovery  over  the  boundless 

ocean,  the  sea  mews  good  spirits  in  attendance,  and  the  moon  a 

pale  ghost,  while  the  shadows  of  the  mountains  divide  the  silver 

water  into  an  endless  succession  of  unexplored  bays.  Over  all 

(12) 

rests  a mournful  beauty  that  "sinks  strangely  into  the  soul," 
and  it  seems  as  if  the  breath  of  oil  elegiac  poetry  were  present 
in  the  breeze.  And  in  the  unbroken  hush  of  the  evening  it  seems 
almost  sacrilege  to  speak;  only  the  faint  murmur  of  the  tide 
amongst  the  rocks  breaks  the  utter  stillness. 

A cont rast ing  p ict-ure  of  equal  intensity  is  to  be  found  in 
the  description  of  the  thunder  storm  in  the  mountains,  throwing 
its  giant  wing  of  gloom  ever  Een  Nevis  and  the  glen  below.  In 
Wilson's  imagination  the  wind  whistling  among  the  cliffs  becomes 
the  moaning  and  shrieking  of  pent  up  spirits,  the  sound  of  the 
driving  snow  the  hissing  of  serpents  in  fury,  and  the  impact  of 
the  hail  the  sting  of  many  wasps,  while  the  flooded  rivers  gather 
their  streams  as  chief  tian3  do  their  clans.  Thus  are  we  made  to 
feel  the  nameless  dread  that  lurks  in  the  thunder  storm,  the 


11 

17, 

pp  . 362  -363 . 

(12) 

IX, 

p . 365. 

44 


vague  fears  and  undefined  terrors  that  assail  the  person  caught 
(13) 

in  its  midst . 

At  times,  however,  this  process  of  intensifying  his  scenes 
is  carried  too  far,  ani  leads  to  exaggerated  effects.  Mountains 
take  on  Titanic  proportions,  distances  stretch  into  endless  miles, 
sunshine  becomes  brighter,  skies  and  water  bluer,  and  storms 
darker  than  ever  nature  presented  them.  Bare  rugged  cliffs  and 
black  mountain  tarns,  whose  only  beauty  lies  in  their  3tern 
desolation,  are  glorified  with  a radiance  and  brightness  that  is 
foreign  to  their  very  nature.  Over  all  is  thrown  a romantic 
glamour,  a spell,  a fascination,  that  in  reality  is  not  there. 

There  is,  however,  still  another  outcome  of  this  general 
tendency  - one  indeed,  which  is  decidedly  less  to  the  author's 
credit.  The  indulgence  of  the  habit  of  adding  to  his  scenes,  of 
throwing  over  them  this  romantic  spell  , frequently  starts  Wilson 
to  sentimentalizing.  Descriptions  that  would  otherwise  be  dom- 
inated by  a note  of  grandaur  are  ruined  by  being  permeated  by 
moral  or  religious  feeling.  Take  ” The  Highland  Snow  Storm,” 
for  example,  the  opening  paragraph  is  splendid,  describing  with 
enthusiasm  and  truthfulness  the  terror  and  dread  of  a mountain 
hurricane.  But  no  sooner  has  Wilson  roused  our  interest  by  this 
vivid  presentation  than  he  becomes  sentimental,  indulging  in  a 

lens  harangue  on  the  thoughts  of  the  future  life  awakened  by  the 

(14)  “ 

fear  of  the  storm.  We  are  not  at  all  prepared  for  that  sort  of 

Tl3)  IX,  pp.  344  -345. 

(14)  IX,  p.  391. 


45  - 


thing,  and  moreover  we  do  not  want  it,  so  that  the  whole  scene 
is  ruined  by  excess  of  feeling. 

So  much  for  the  substance  of  Wilson’s  descriptive  writings; 
let  us  ncvV  turn  our  attention  tc  a discussion  cf  their  general 
form  and  style,  and  a determination  of  its  relative  merits  and 
faults.  Perhaps  the  first  thing  that  the  reader  notes  about  it, 
indeed  its  outstanding  feature,  is  its  lack  of  any  set  order 
or  plan.  Throughout  all  of  his  writings  there  is  a total  absence 
of  any  previously  thought  out  systerp,  except  what  is  determined 
by  the  chronology  of  the  narrative  elements.  Wilson's  besetting 
sins  are  thus  given  a free  rein  with  the  result  that  the  sketches 
are  marred  both  by  diffuseness  and  desultcriness . Wilson  begins 
to  describe  a particular  landscape  when  suddenly  something  stim- 
ulates his  imagination  or  awakens  memories  of  the  past.  Immedi- 
ately the  original  subject  is  forgotten,  he  devotes  endless 
pages  to  following  fancy’s  flight,  or  recording  the  incidents  of 
bygone  days.  Sometimes,  unless  this  new  vein  is  exhausted,  he 
returns  tc  the  first  theme;  sometimes  it  is  gone  forever.  Not 
even  his  best  papers  are  free  from  this  fault,  as  may  be  inferred 
by  his  long  and  irrelevant  criticism  of  Wordsworth  in  the  preface 
to  "The  Moors."  or  the  serious  and  totally  impertinent  sermon  that 
interrupts  the  account  of  his  wonderful  exploits  on  the  mountain 
s ide . 

Moreover,  the  individual  scenes  in  these  papers  are  but 
loosely  connected.  The  gradual  growth  and  development  of  the 
sportsman  serves  to  connect  a series  lightning  sketches  of 


' 


?■ 

. 

. 


46  - 


(15) 

sporting  life,  extending  from  youth  to  maturity;  one  day's 

shooting  trip  provides  reason  for  the  presentation  of  a succession 

(16) 

of  Highland  scenes,  in  reality  scattered  far  and  wide;  a stroll 
of  Grasmere  forms  the  only  tie  uniting  a series  of  otherwise 

Ci?) 

detached  pictures  of  sylvan  beauties;  while  the  coming  and 

going  of  the  seasons  gives  occasion  for  rapid  descriptions  of 

(16) 

views  characteristic  of  each  period  of  the  year.  Boyhood  to 

maturity  is  quite  a transformation  in  the  space  of  half  a dozen 

pages;  a tour  of  the  four  great  lakes  of  Britain,  inclusive 

expeditions  to  the  summits  of  many  famous  mountains,  Ben  Cruachin, 

Old  Man  of  Coniston,  and  Ben  Lomond  - is  quite  an  accomplishment 

for  one  day's  shooting  trip.  But  if  we  are  to  enjoy  Wilson' 3 

not 

descriptions  we  must /take  him  too  literally,  and  expect  to  find 

a close  relation  of  incident  and  scenery. 

The  same  general  looseness  of  construction  is  likewise  in 

evidence  in  each  individual  passage  of  description.  Unlike  Sir 

Walter  Scott,  he  does  not  aim  to  give  first  the  general  impression 

they 

and  later  the  significant  details  in  the  order  in  which/ might 
catch  the  eye.  He  may  begin  by  a general  impression  but  it  is 
far  more  likely  to  be  the  result  of  accident  than  of  artistic 
purpose.  Instead  his  tendency  is  to  enumerate  details  in  a helter 
skelter  fashion,  perhaps  as  memory  recalls  them,  perhaps  as 
fancy  dictates.  Indeed  he  may  even  commence  with  more  or  less  in- 
significant facts  and  work  up  tc  the  general  impression  at  the 

close.  Never  does  he  take  the  time  to  think  out  his  description 
Tl5)  IX,  pp  . 1 -75. 

(16)  IX,  pp,  262  -390. 

(17)  IX, pp.  327  - 369  . 

(lb) IX,  pp . 224  -253. 


47 


beforehand,  tc  determine  the  effect  of  the  whole,  the  order  of 
importance  in  detail,  and  the  unnecessary  or  irrelevant  facts,  in 
the  manner  that  clear,  concise  description  demands. 

And  if  the  construction  of  the  essays  as  a whole  and  the  a 
arrangement  of  individual  paragraphs  both  display  lack  of  plan, 
forethought,  and  revision,  the  formation  of  his  sentences  is  no 
better.  In  general  his  style  is  decidedly  overladen,  each  sentence 
being  weighted  down  by  superfluous  words,  phrases,  or  rhetorical 
figures.  The  diction  is  distinctly  florid,  ornate,  embellished 
with  romantic  or-  sentimental  figures  of  speech,  at  times  so  dis- 
tinctly out  of  place  that  the  meaning  is  either  difficult  of 
comprehension  or  totally  indistinguishable.  A few  scattered 

phrases  will  serve  to  illustrate  the  point,  " Contentment  wreaths 

(19) 

with  silk  and  velvet  the  prisoners  chains,"  says  Wilson  in 

setting  forth  his  ability  to  make  a virtue  of  necessity.  Now 

aside  from  the  improbability  of  a wreath  being  composed  of  silk 

or  velvet  we  are  unable  to  discover  a reason  for  ’wreathing  a 

chain.  Again,  "The  Scythe  of  Saturn  ceaslessly  sweeping  over 

the  earth  and  leaving  at  every  stride  of  the  mower  a swathe  more 

rueful  than  ever  after  a nie:ht  of  ship  wreck  did  strew  with 

'(301 

ghastliness  a lee  sea-shore,"  is  the  somewhat  mixed  and  decid- 
edly involved  metaphor  by  which  he  voices  his  feelings  concerning 
the  inevitable  onward  movement  of  death  and  decay.  Nor  is  this 
tendency  confined  to  individual  phrases;  at  times  Wilson  is  com- 
pletely carried  away  by  his  own  ungovernable  imagination,  and 

U9f  17,  p . 243 , * ~~ 

(20)  IX,  p.  343. 


46 


indulges  in  long  series  of  figures  piled  up  one  after  another  in 

rapid  succession  imtil  the  total  effect  "becomes  almost  ludicrous. 

In  youth,  he  say 3,  he  was  "restless  as  a sunbeam  on  the  restless 

wave,  rapid  a3  a river  that  se^ms  enraged  with  all  impediments, 

strong  as  a steed  let  loose  from  Arab's  tent  to  slake  his  thirst 

at  the  desert  well,  fierce  in  our  harmless  joy  as  the  red  deer 

belling  on  the  hills,  tameless  as  the  eagle  sporting  in  the  3torm, 

gay  as  the  'dolphin  on  a tropic  sea,  ' 'mad  a3  young  bulls,  wild  as 

(21) 

a whole  wilderness  of  adolescent  lions." 

Not  only  are  sentences  flowery  and  elaborately  adorned,  but 

they  are  in  general  long  and  loosely  constructed.  It  is  nothing 

unusual  when  Wilson  is  particularly  enthusiastic  for  his  sentences 

to  ramble  on  promiscuously  to  a whole  half  page  in  length,  loosely 

connected  by  a generous  sprinkling  of  exclamation  points.  Phrase 

follows  phrase  in  quick  succession,  piling  up  without  plan  or 

limit.  Adjectives  flow  forth  in  an  exhaustless  stream  - the  fish 

"bright  and  beautiful,  glorious  in  yellow  and  crimson  lustre, 

(22) 

spotted,  speckled,  and  starred  in  his  3caly  splendor."  Thus 
does  Wilson  coiitinually  follow  where  fancy  leads,  whether  in 
rhetorical  figures,  phrases,  or  adjectives,  utterly  regardless 
of  the  general  effect  on  the  initial  subject.  Absolutely  unorgan- 
ized therefore,  subservient  to  nc  central  purpose,  from  the  stand- 
point of  pure  technicalities  of  diction  the  style  of  Wilson's 

descriptive  writings  could  scarcely  be  much  worse.  Such  then  is 

(21)  IX,  p . 243. 

(22)  IX,  p.  4, 


49 


the  general  impression  obtained  from  reading  these  papers  as  a 
whole  and  noting  those  traits  which  are  common  to  all  alike. 

There  are  however,  certain  other  characteristics  equally  noteworthy 
which  if  not  continually  in  evidence  are  decidedly  prominent  in 
individual  passages.  In  the  first  place,  Wilson '3  general  habit 
of  overdoing  everything  he  attempts  leads  him  frequently  into 
grandiloquence  on  the  one  hand,  or  poetic  rhapsodies  on  the  other. 
While  the  grandeur  and  magnificence  of  individual  Highland  scenes 
may  on  occasion  warrant  a style  of  elevation  and  impressiveness, 
such  a style  ought  to  be  employed  judiciously  and  sparingly; 

Wilson,  however,  in  his  enthusiasm  and  fervor,  is  betrayed  into 
using  it  much  too  frequently.  At  times  he  will  even  set  forth 
the  commonest  sights  and  sounds  of  nature  in  words  and  phrases 
of  high  sounding  ahd  imposing  effect,  much  above  the  dignity  of 
the  occasion.  Turn  to  the  papers  "Christopher  North  in  his 
Aviary,"  for  example,  in  which  Wil3on  is  dealing  with  nothing 
more  lofty  or  distinctive  than  the  individual  traits  and  habits 
of  the  native  British  birds,  - a subject  interesting  and  instruct- 
ive it  is  true,  but  never  attaining  to  the  Mights  and  depths  of 
feeling  and  significance  required  to  warrant  the  employment  of 
the  "grand  style.”  Yet  in  his  presentation  of  this  theme,  Wilson 
frequently  adapts  the  grandiose,  as  when  he  deals  with  the  imper- 
ial qualities  of  the  eagle  - king  of  birds  - or  the  inspiring 
carols  of  the  song  birds. 

Again  the  tone  will  be  pompous,  inflated,  tig  without  any 


50 


great  depth  of  meaning,  as  when  Wilson  commences  to  moralize  or 
sentimentalize.  The  long  digression  oh  "Ruins"  in  the  Aviary 
papers,  with  its  sentimental  dwelling  upon  the  vicissitudes  of 
human  life,  the  inevitableness  of  decay,  and  the  consequent  use- 
lessness  and  desolation  of  human  activity;  a3  the  paragraph  on 
Dartmoor  Prison  in  its  excess  of  feeling  for  those  "doomed  to 
die  in  captivity,"  a3  if  they  were  martyrs  for  a noble  cause, 
amply  illustrate  this  fault.  At  t imes, moreover,  Wilson  even 
waxes  oratorical,  setting  forth  with  ant ithe si 3, balance , and  all 
the  old  time  worn  devices  of  that  made,  his  ideas  upon  religion, 

morals  or  society,  as  in  the  passage  immediately  following  the 

» 

Fairies  Funeral  or  the  sermon  upon  the  mountainside  in" The  Moors." 

Not  less  frequently  doe 3 the  drift  into  poetic  rhapsody, 
indulging  therein  in  bursts  of  rushing  eloquence  that  are  alto- 
gether toe  Ossianic  in  style.  In  this  connection  it  may  be  well 
to  compare  him  with  Sir  Walter  Scott,  who  has  an  equally  ardent 
affection  for  the  sights  and  customs  of  his  native  land,  and  who 
also  presents  them  repeatedly  in  poem  and  novel.  In  such  de- 
scriptions however,  Scott  notes  the  significant  details,  presents 
them  in  the  order  in  which  one  might  observe  them,  and  allows  the 
reader  to  re-act  to  the  picture  as  he  will*  Moreover  he  recog- 
nizes distinctly  the  boundaries  between  prose  and  poetry  and  does 
not  overstep  them.  Wilson  on  the  other  hand,  violates  both  of 
these  rules,  and  is  thus  led  into  the  fault  under  disucssion. 

He  allows  himself  to  be  completely  carried  away  by  the  fervor  of 


51 


his  own  description,  he  gives  way  to  bursts  of  enthusiasm,  inter- 
prets, pours  out  his  own  feelings  in  an  endless  stream,  thus 
leaving  nothing  for  the  reader  to  do  but  agree  or  disagree.  Such 
effusions  naturally  carry  him  into  a distinctly  poetic  rant  and 
rhythm,  decidedly  cut  of  keeping  with  the  spirit  and  purpose  of 
prose,  and  resulting  in  poetic  rhapsody. 

On  the  other  hand,  however,  there  are  to  be  found  scattered 
through  the  descriptive  papers  passages  of  the  sweetness  and 
beauty  necessary  to  convey  the  peaceful  loveliness  of  the  English 
lake  district,  the  exquisite  vignettes  of  scenery  that  were  for- 
ever arresting  Wilson's  attention,  or  the  delicacy  and  purity  of 
some  of  his  imaginative e scenes.  In  such  passages  we  find  our- 
selves carried  into  a distinctly  different  field.  Not  only  are 
the  words  stimulating  and  suggestive,  but  they  are  so  grouped  as 
to  have  a certain  musical  quality  in  harmony  with  the  beauty  they 
describe.  Take  for  example,  the  passage  from  the  » Recreations, » 
the  » Fair ie s 'Funeral , » quoted  above,  and  read  it  aloud.  One  is 
immediately  aware  of  a distinct  rhythmical  quality  that  beginning 
with  the  first  line  of  the  paragraph  is  continuous  to  its  close. 
In  one  line,  moreover,  it  even  slips  into  the  regular  cadence  of 
blank  verse,  « than  aught  that  trills  from  earthly  instrument.” 

Nor  is  this  particular  passage  the  only  one  of  the  kind;  there 
are  many  others  like  it,  although  they  may  contain  considerably 


more  obvious  flaws  and  blemishes. 


- 53  - 

Yet,  although  in  the  main  Fil son's  te  dinical  style  i3  not 
to  be  commended,  this  leaves  untouched  the  attraction  of  the 
subject  matter  of  these  papers>__of  their  suitableness  for  the 
purpose  of  recreation.  In  this  respect  they  are  undeniably  good. 
In  the  first  place  the  general  character  of  the  subjects  dealt 
with  is  healthy  and  inspiriting;  youth  reading  them,  must  neces- 
sarily feel  their  urge  to  manly  strength  and  valor.  Moreover, 
with  the  one  exception  of  his  paragraph  on  cat  shooting,  7'ilson 
is  generally  a thoroughly  fair  sportsman.  Indeed  an  early  protest 

aeainst  some  modern  fashions  of  shooting  is  to  be  found  in  "The 

(23) 

Moors"  - namely  the  attack  upon  sporting  in  a game  preserve. 

.Add  to  these  facts  the  freshness  and  variety  of  the  essays,  their 
attractiveness  and  engaging  spontaneity,  and  their  satisfying 
and  revealing  glimpses  of  youth  and  manhood,  and  their  worth  as 
books  of  recreation  is  clearly  3een.  In  spite  of  numerous  faults, 

therefore,  a volume  composed  of  the  best  of  these  papers  -"Chris- 

topher North  in  hio  Smoking  Jacket,"  "The  Moors,"  "Christopher 
on  Col on say,"  and  "A  saunter  at  Grasmere,"  with  perhaps  the 
addition  of  "Streams"  and  "The  Seasons,"  - would  be  a thing  of 
price  • 


(23)  IX,  p.  372. 


53 


CHASTE?  HI. 

MISCELLANEOUS  TORES:  « THE  NOCTES  AMBROSANAE." 

It  is  not  until  we  come  to  the  third  and  best  known  group 
of  his  works,  however,  that  we  find  Wilson  in  his  full  glory, 
his  powers  extended  to  their  utmost  capacity  and  his  geniu3  run- 
ning riot  at  its  own  sweet  will.  Not  that  these  papers  present 
the  very  best  work  he  ever  accomplished  - such  credit  has  already 
been  assigned  to  his  description  - but  they  do  afford  an  oppor- 
tunity for  the  display  of  his  versatile  genius  that  is  not  to  be 
found  elsewhere.  His  critical  essays  confine  - or  should  confine  - 
him  to  the  subject  in  hand,  a purely  literary  discussion  of  some 
particular  work.  His  descriptive  papers  are  less  restraining  in 
that  they  afford  an  outlet  for  what  was  perhaps  the  most  passion- 
ate devotion  of  his  life,  love  of  the  out  of  doors.  But  the 
"Noctes  Ambtosianae"  while  retaining  and  combining  both  of  these 
elements,  add  a third  distinctive  quality,  the  dramatic.  In  them 
we  have  no  direct  contact  With  the  author,  for,  except  for  the 
general  settings  and  stage  directions,  the  subject  matter  is 
presented  entirely  through  the  medium  of  dramatic  conversation. 

This  change  of  method  therefore  provides  scope  for  the  display 
of  the  author's  ability  in  new  fields,  thus  manifesting  certain 
distinctive  characteristics  of  Wilson's  genius  and  3tyle  not 
hitherto  considered. 

Let  us  therefore  turn  our  attention  to  the  analysis  of  the 
"Hoctes  Ambrosianae , « paying  special  attention  tc  such  character- 


4 


54  - 


iatics  as  are  either  entirely  absent  from  the  other  papers  or 
present  in  a limited  degree.  Perhaps  the  most  outstanding  feature 
of  the  series  is  their  presentation  of  such  a wide  range  of  sub- 
jects, mingling  therein  wit  and  wisdom,  pathos  and  fancy,  uproar- 
ious fun  and  philosophical  discussion.  Such  variety  is  of  course, 
made  possible  by  the  adoption  of  the  conversational  method  of 
presentation.  Wilson  had  no  desire  to  coni' ine  his  writings  to 
one  subject,  but  in  ordinary  composition  such  restraint  is 
necessary  in  order  to  avoid  diffusene33.  Therefore  he  turns  to 
the  dialogue  as  the  natural  vehicle  for  the  introduction  of  the 
many  and  widely  varied  subjects  which  he  wishes  to  treat.  The 
suitability  is  obvious.  An  ordinary  conversation,  unless  the 
group  has  assembled  for  the  express  purpose  of  discussing  some 
one  thing,  will  center  in  events  of  the  day,  in  such  things  as 
are  of  immediate  interest  to  those  present.  Perhaps  it  will  oe 
the  political  situation,  perhaps  art,  religion,  literature, 
floating  gossip,  or  merely  conventional  small  talk  - indeed  it 
may  be  anything  that  will  appeal  to  a common  interest.  And  such 
is,  in  fact,  the  material  that  comprises  the  "Noctes  Ambrosianas .” 
Here  the  conversation  may  even  open  with  the  time-worn  discussion 
of  the  weather;  it  may  dwell  upon  the  welfare  of  mutual  iriends, 
or  it  may  turn  upon  the  present  activities  of  the  participants. 

But  it  is  never  long  before  mere  small  talk  is  discarded  and  some- 
thing of  greater  moment  introduced.  In  a flash  there  is  started 


55 


a heated  argument  on  religion  or  politics,  Whig  against  Tory, 

Free  Church  against  Established,  in  the  midst  of  which  again  there 
may  be  an  opportunity  for  the  expression  of  opinion  upon  art  or 
literature.  Passages  of  the  richest  and  most  poetical  eloquence 
are  thus  mixed  with  philosophic  discussion;  political  invectives 
are  intermingle  & with  literary  criticism,  while  tragedy,  comedy, 
and  farce  are  combined  in  every  dialogue.  Never  do  the  speakers 
feel  compelled  to  restrain  their  eloquence  to  one  subject;  never 
are  they  under  the  necessity  of  completing  one  topic  before  they 
introduce  another,  they  are  merely  engaged  in  social  intercourse, 
and  their  conversation  is  therefore  free  to  fellow  what  bent  it 
will.  And  it  is  in  this  very  combination,  interchange,  and  harmon- 
ious play  of  the  numerous,  diverse,  and  contradictory  elements  that 
the  peculiar  power  of  the  "Poctes"!  ies.  indeed  could  the  whole 
series  be  adequately  indexed,  there  would  in  all  probability  be 
scarcely  a subject  in  heaven  cr  on  earth  on  which  the  characters 
do  not  state  their  views. 

Yet  the  very  introduction  of  such  a vast  variety  of  topics, 
although  conducive  to  reproducing  contemporary  interests  and 
events  with  energy  and  exactitude,  is  not  without  somie  material 
disadvantages  for  Wilson's  particular  type  of  genius.  In  the 
first  place  he  repeatedly  takes  advantage  of  the  opportunity  it 
provides  for  the  indulgence  of  his  inclination  toward  extravagance 
and  exaggeration.  Perhaps  this  fault  is  most  conspicuous  in  the 
general  setting  and  scenery,  wherein  the  author  mingles  promis- 
cuously probabilities  and  improbabilities.  The  original  scene 


56 


of  these  gatherings  is  Ambrose's  - a modest  tut  comfortable 
Edinburgh  hotel.  But  under  the  spell  of  Wilson's  riotous  imag- 
ination it  rapidly  changes  its  form.  The  simple  rooms  are  con- 
verted into  abodes  of  luxury;  the  quite  ordinary  plate  becomes 
silver,  while  wax  candles  and  silken  curtains  immediately  call 

up  visions  of  the  Orient.  Moreover,  Wilson's  own  home  at  Elleray 

(1) 

is  dimly  recognizable  in  the  imaginary  "hall  by  the  sea,"  and 

in  a construction  that  stops  little  short  of  a fairy  palace  on 

(2) 

Murray  Street,  can  be  traced  his  actual  Edinburgh  abode,  Indeed 

if  one  reads  Mrs.  Gordon's  description  of  Wilson  writing  for 

Blackwood's  - his  equipment  a dirty  inkstand,  a single  tallow 

(3) 

candle,  and  pure  water  alone  for  refreshment,  - then  compares 

it  with  the  gorgeous  setting  of  the  "Noctss"  - silver  inkstand, 

(4) 

floods  of  light,  and  uni  in.  ited  claret  - the  contrast  is  almost 
laughable . 

Nor  does  this  habitual  exaggeration  confine  itself  to  the 

actual  surroundings  - the  same  tendency  is  in  evidence  in  the 

actions  of  the  characters  themselves.  Oysters  are  consumed  not 

by  the  dozens  but  by  the  fifties,  one  evening's  toddy  for  three 

necessitates  six  ordinary  kettles  full  of  water,  while  the  dinners 

and  suppers  prepared  for  the  immortal  three  might  almost  supply 

a regiment.  No  wonder  the  "Noctes"  are  frequently  charged  with 

being  grossly  and  palpably  gluttonous,  and.  their  characters  set 

down  as  mere  boozing  buffoons. 

Tl)  I,  p.  34 
(2)  I,  p.  194 

(•3)  Mrs.  Gordon,  "Christooher  North,"  pp . 396  -40C . 

(4)  II,  p.  146. 


57 


In  the  second  place,  this  conversational  method  gives  free 
license  to  Wilson's  most  serious  fault,  capriciousness.  "rers  one 
to  read  the  "Noctes"  with  the  express  purpose  of  determining  just 
what  Wilson's  opinions  and  general  principles  are,  he  would  have 
great  difficulty  in  obtaining  any  clear  conception.  Wilson  was 
altogether  too  much  given  to  voicing  his  moods  rather  than  his 
convictions,  and,  being  of  a notably  changeable  disposition, 
these  moods  were  seldom  twice  alike.  Now  the  "Noctes,"  in 
common  with  most  of  his  works,  were  not  the  result  of  concentrated 
effort  for  any  length  of  time  - far  from  it.  Rather,  when  maga- 
zine day  drew  near  '(once  a month)  Wilson  would  absent  himself 
from  his  clubs  for  a period  of  several  days  and  devote  himself 
to  the  composition  of  a "Noctes."  The  result  can  easily  be 
guessed;  Wilson'3  moods  from  one  month's  end  to  another  were 
never  the  same,  and  he  expressed  opinions  therefore  differ  widely. 
How  this  affected  his  literary  criticism  has  already  been  dis- 
cussed; but  in  everything  else  the  situation  was  the  same.  At 

one  moment  North  emphatically  denounces  the  use  of  abusive  or 

(5) 

violent  language  in  attacking  an  assailant,  whether  in  Parlia- 
mentary speech,  political  publicsiticns,  or  literary  criticism, 
but  later  we  find  him  openly  commending  Mr.  Canning  for  his 

(6) 

powers  of  invective,  "venturing  to  the  very  borders  of  vulgarity," 

or  Mr.  Brougham  for  a bitter  attack  on  his  opponent,  Mr.  Hums,  in 

(7) 

a session  of  Parliament.  In  another  place  North  ably  and  con- 
vincingly expounds  his  theory  of  representative  government,  in 

Tb)  I,  p , 39 
(3)  I,  p . 1 55 

(7)  I,  p.  282. 


56 


which  all  elements  of  public  opinion,  of  all  classes  of  honest 
population,  however  varied,  shall  be  virtually  represented  in 
Cabinet,  so  that  thi3  Cabinet  may  collectively  judge  these  ele- 
ments and  decide  which  one  will  offer  least  violence  to  the  great- 
(6) 

eat  number.  Yet,  as  we  read  on, we  find  ourselves  questioning 

whether  Roman  Catholics  or  the  great  Whig  poli  t ical  party  are, 

(9)' 

according  to  North’s  opinion,” honest  population,"  for  he  re- 
peatedly assails  the  one  as  too  prejudiced  and  swayed  by  blind 
superstition  to  be  granted  full  political  rights  and  liberties, 
and  the  other  as  too  foolish  for  serious  consideration.  Even  in 
his  appreciation  of  the  comparative  impressions  of  works  of  nature 
and  works  of  man  his  sentiments  are  somewhat  varied.  For  the  most 
part  he  seems  to  value  the  former  more  highly,  placing  natural 
loveliness  far  above  anything  that  men  can  dc,  "The  glorious  works 
of  nature  everywhere  overshadows  those  of  men’s  hands  and  her 
primeval  spirit  yet  reigns,  with  permanent  and  prevailing  power, 
over  the  region  that  art  has  made  magnificent  with  snires  and 

(n) 

cbeli3ks,  towers,  temples,  and  palaces."  Rut  occasionally  he 
allows  "art"  to  carry  him  away,  until,  completely  changing  his 
standpoint,  he  yields  first  place  to  the  works  of  men.  "Is  a 
great  military  road  over  a mountain,  groaning  with  artillery, 
bristling  with  bayonet s, sounding  with  bands  of  music,  les3  poet- 
ical than  a vast  untrodden  Andes,  magnificent  as  may  be  its  sol- 


(6)  I,  p . 130 . 

(9)11. 

do) 

(ll)  I,  p . 245 . 


59 


itude3  beneath  moon  or  stars?  Is  a log  of  wool,  be  it  a whole 
uprooted  pine,  drifting  upon  the  ocean,  as  poetical  as  a hundred 

oared  canoe?  What  more  sublime  than  the  anchor  by  which  a great 

v,  USl 

ship  nangs  in  safety  within  the  roar  of  the  whirl -pool?” 

There  i3,niiDr30ver , another  serious  fault  in  Wilson's  treat- 
ment of  this  conversational  method.  The  dialogues  proved  tc  be 
an  extraordinarily  effective  vehicle  for  the  expression  of  opinion 
bn  every  variety  of  3ubiect,  but  Wilson  at  times  abused  this 
opportunity.  The  ideas  not  being  voiced  directly  by  the  author, 
but  rather  expressed  through  the  agency  of  imaginary  characters 
made  it  possible  for  Wilson  to  decline  to. accept  any  direct  re- 
sponsibility for  them.  Thus  when  one  remembers  his  tendency  to 
coarseness  and  abuse  (discussed  in  chapter  II,)  it  is  easy  to 
see  where  the  danger  lies.  Aside  from  scurrilous  flings  at  many 
literary  artists  whom  in  reality  he  admired,  Wilson  attacks  in- 
discriminately both  individuals  and  institutions  that  he  ordin- 
arily held  in  reverence.  The  Roman  Catholic  Church  is  condemned 

(13) 

utterly  as  "full  of  falsehood  and  idolatry,”  the  clergy  of 

every  denomination  are  repeatedly  and  without  reservation  satir- 

(14) 

ized  a3  worldly  and  indifferent;  the  public  school  system  is 

(15) 

censured  more  or  less  severly,  while  the  prominent  figures  in 
the  political  world  are  not  infrequently  assailed  in  language  of 
the  most  violent  and  forceful  kind. 

Tl3)  I,  t>.  53.  ~ 

(13)  I,  p . 333. 

(14)  II,  P.  67, 

(15)  IX,  -d,  15. 


s 


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60 


Not  lass  characteristic  of  the  subject  matter  of  the  "Ncctes” 

are  the  scenes  of  boisterous  fun  and  practical  joking.  Of  course 

this  element  is  present  to  a greater  or  less  extent  in  everything 

Wilson  wrote,  aside  from  hi3  formal  criticism.  It  is  found  in 

(16) 

his  treatment  of  youth  and  sport  in  the  n Sport  ing  Jacket , " 

in  his  jovial  sketches  of  the  great  national  weakness  - in  which 

(1?) 

indeed  Wilson  seems  to  have  been  a rsharer  - in  "The  Moors,”  or 
in  the  series  of  sketches  « Christopher  on  Ccnolsay"  - a wild 
extravaganza  with  3ome  slight  basis  of  fact,  that  displays  a 
strong  sense  of  the  ludicrous  and  a decided  ability  to  handle 
burlesque  narrative.  But  it  is  in  the  Ncctes  that  this  spirit 
of  fun  and  frolic  reaches  its  height.  Here  it  finds  vent  in  a 
humor  of  the  rough  and  tumble  order,  loud,  impetuous,  and  even 
rude.  The  intellectual  qualities  of  humor  are  seldom  present : 
the  .fun  is  principally  derived  from  practical  joking  or  horse 
play.  It  is  broad,  free,  rolicking  as  the  frank  animal  spirits 
that  gives  it  birth.  Of  course  the  fact  that  this  element  is 
frequently  present  in  excess  necessarily  requires  that  the  reader 
be  in  a certain  mood  to  appreciate  it.  For  instance  if  one 
objects  to  horse  play  he  will  be  horrified  at  finding  the  char*- 

(19) 

acters  corking  each  other's  faces  in  slumber,  playing  at  pyramids, 

(20) 

or  indulging  in  leap  frog  with  the  servants.  Such  things  may 
make  the  reader  laugh  , but  they  are  more  frequently  associated 

with  the  pranks  of  small  boys  than  the  recreation  of  grown  men, 

(16)  IX,  prT  262  -390. 

(17)  VII,  pp , 330-293. 

(16)  II , p . 95  . 

(19)  II,  p . 428. 


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61 


and  men  supposedly  of  literary  rank  at  that.  Yet  not  infrequently 

amid  such  material  are  to  be  found  scenes  of  quite  admirable 

fooling;  the  Shepherd  on  3kates  masquerading  as  an  officer  and 

cutting  difficult  mathematical  figures  on  the  ice  - arms  akimbo, 

cheeks  puffed  out,  eyes  staring  fiercely,  and  on  his  head  a 

(31) 

hiphly  curled  wig;  or  again  the  swimming  match  between  Tickler 

(23) 

and  the  Shepherd  while  the  London  packet  comes  up  the  firth. 

Sven  better  is  the  haggis  scene,  in  which  on  the  haggis  being 

opened  ani  overflowing  the  container,  the  whole  party  pretend 

to  be  drowned,  Tickler  taking  refuge  on  the  mantle  shelf  and 

being  forced  to  improvise  a sixteen  stanza  sons:  before  they  will 

(23) 

assist  him  down.  At  times,  indeed,  a burlesque  narrative  is 

introduced,  as  the  Shepherd's  Mazeppa  like  rid  on  Bonas3U3, 

wherein,  mounted  upon  that  wild  bull,  without  clothing  or  riding 

equipment,  Hogg  is  carried  over  the  country  side  in  mad  career, 

past  stage  coach  ani  p icnic  part  ie s , not  infrequently  leaping 

thirty  foot  obstacles  until  finally  he  arrives  in  the  town  of 
(24) 

Moffat.  Indeed  a certain  effect  of  Burlesque  oddity  is  con- 
tinually present  in  these  dialogues.  The  author  interrupts  a 
description  of  Ben  Nevis  of  Glencoe  to  cry  cut  for  an  additional 
sausage  and  breaks  away  from  a discussion  on  the  origin  of  evil 
to  compound  a tumbler  of  toddy,  while  during  De  Quincey's  explan- 
ation of  Kant's  "Practical  Reason"  the  Shepherd  is  grunting 
"Glorious"  over  a plate  of  hotch  potch.  Decidedly  the  effect  is 

T2l)  I,  P . 102, 

(22)  II,  op.  2-13 

(23)  II,  o.  134. 

(24)  II,  t>  . 341  . 


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63 


farcical, but  it  is  a farce  that  not  infrequently  alls  to  our 
appreciation  of  the  whole.  Such  scenes  are  seldom  unamusing, 
and  are  drawn  with  a vigor  and  freshness,  an  originality  and 
lucidity  that  causes  them  to  stand  out  clearly  in  the  mind  of 
the  reader. 

Throughout  all  these  papers,  moreover,  there  are  to  be  found 

brief  scattered  narratives,  likewise  remarkable  for  their  graphic 

delineation  of  individual  scenes.  Sometimes  such  narratives 

recount  actual  incident,  but  more  frequently  they  are  the  product 

of  the  authors  imagination.  Perhaps  it  is  a picture  from  the 

sinple  home  life  of  the  Scottish  peasant,  with  it 3 true  spirit 

of  unity,  its  respect  for  the  aged,  and  its  profound  reverence 

for  things  holy.  "The  ancient  grandame,  seated  at  the  ingle 

among  her  children's  children,  wi ' the  Bible  open  upon  her  knees, 

and  looking  solemn, almost  severs  through  her  dim  eyes,  through 

specs  shaded  by  gray  hairs  - now  and  then  brightening  up  her 

faded  countenance  wi'  a saintly  smile,  as  she  scftly  lets  fa* 

(25) 

her  shrivelled  hands  on  the  golden  heads."  Perhaps  it  is  one 
of  the 36  exquisite  passages  of  nature  description,  which,  rendered 
with  decidedly  philosophical  touch,  for  nature  and  human  nature 
are  ever  closely  akin,  form  not  the  least  part  cf  the  attraction 
of  the  "Noctes  Ambrosianae ,»  Take  the  picture  of  the  Cathedral 
in  the  cloud3  for  example,  "?uch  a show  cf  clouds.  A congrega- 
tion of  a million  might  worship  in  that  Cathedral.  V?hat  a dome! 
And  is  not  that  flight  of  steps  magnificent?  *.y  imagination 
125)  I,  p.  267. 


■ r • • . 


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- 63  - 

sees  a crowd  of  white  robed  spirit  a ascending  to  the  inner  shrine 

of  the  temple.  Hark  - a bell  tolls!  Yonder  it  13,  swinging  to 

and  fro,  half  minute  time,  in  its  tower  of  clouds.  The  great 

organ  'gins  to  blow  its  pealing  anthem  - and  the  overcharged 

spirit  falling  from  the  vision  sees  nothing  but  the  pageantry  of 

earth's  common  vapors  - that  ere  long  will  melt  in  showers,  or 

be  wafted  away  in  darker  masses  over  the  distance  of  the  sea. 

But  look  abroad  over  the  work-day  world  and  tell  if  thou  seest 

aught  more  steadfast  or  substantial  than  that  cloud  cathedral, 

with  its  flight  of  vapor  steps,  and  its  mist  towers,  and  its  air 

organ,  now  all  gone  forever,  like  the  idle  words  that  imaged 

(26) 

forth  the  transitory  and  delusive  glories.*'  Perhaps  it  is  an 
account  of  actual  experience,  as  the  faithful  and  lucid  descrip- 
tion of  travel  in  an  ancient  hackney  coach,  with  its  wornout 

fittings,  straw  on  the  floors,  low  roof  and  unbearable  rattle  of 
(27) 

wheels,**  Or  again  he  turns  to  such  experience  as  is  intense 
or  terrible:  "Fozie  Tom  the  dragoon,  wavin'  wi ' white  plumes, 

glitterin'  wi'  gowd,  and  ringin'  wi ' iron,  gallopin'  on  a grey 
horse  that  caves  the  foam  from  its  fiery  nostrils,  wi ! a mane  o' 
clcud3  and  a tail  that  flows  like  a cataract;  mustachios  about 

f 

the  mouth  like  a devourin'  cannibal  and  proud  fierce  e'en  that 

seem  glowerin'  for  an  enemy  into  the  distant  horizon  - his  long 

sword  swinging  in  the  scabbard  wi'  a fearsome  clatter  - and 

(26) 

h i s doup  Au  n ah  in  do  wn  among  the  spots  o'  a tiger’s  skin;** 

( 26)  I , p . 1 59  , 

(37)  I,  p.  176, 

(26)  I,  p.  165. 


64 


or  the  mutineer's  execution  - the  tread  of  the  troops  like  the 

% 

step  of  a giant,  so  perfect  was  their  discipline,  three  sides 

of  the  square  filled  with  3oldiars,  the  drum  played  by  an  African 

nigger  six  feet  four  inches  in  height,  the  vast  crowd  motionless 

as  so  many  images,  the  slow  measured  3tep  of  the  condemned  man 

as  he  advanced  behind  his  coffin  to  within  ten  yards  of  the  firing 

squad,  his  prayer  kneeling  on  that  coffin,  then  the  final  volley 

(36) 

that  ended  his  earthly  existence. 

The  most  outstanding  feature  of  the  subject  matter  of  the 
"Noctes  Ambrosianas"  is,  however,  the  characterization.  This 
feature  of  the  papers,  aside  from  it 3 intrinsic  interest,  is 
important  because  of  its  direct  influence  on  the  substance  dis- 
cussed, both  in  choice  of  material  and  method  of  treatment  or 
interpretation.  Let  us  illustrate.  Foremost  amongst  these 
characters  stands  Hogg,  the  Ettrick  Shepherd,  with  his  homely 
heartiness  of  manner,  and  innocent  rusticity  of  conduct.  Add  to 
this  a strong  personal  vanity,  a keen  sense  of  the  ludicrous, 
an  outlook  upon  life  that  was  a peculiar  combination  of  the  sag- 
acious and  the  philosophical,  originality,  imagination,  and  quite 
a commendable  literary  gift,  and  we  have  a character  that  is 
strongly  individual,  acquiring  distinct  substance  in  the  reader' 0 
mind,  and  arousing  much  personal  interest.  For  doe3  Tilson  stop, 
there ; thus  far  he  has  but  reproduced  with  considerable  skill 

ard  fidelity,  the  original  character  of  the  Ettrick  Shepherd. 

(38)  I,  p.  303. 


, 


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• 

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• 

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‘ 

65 


The  real  Hojrg,  however,  was  never  a conversationalist,  nor  did 
his  remarks  possess  more  than  a certain  droll  humor  and  poetic 
coloring.  Yet  those  half  hidden  characteristics  supplied  to 
Wilson  the  hints  out  of  v/hich  he  constructed  the  Hogg  of  the 
"Noctes  Ambrosianae  ,n  Thus,  his  character  carefully  expands 
under  the  hands  of  the  author, the  Ettrlck  Shepherd  is  made  to 
serve  a distinct  purpose.  Whenever  Wilson  has  an  opinion  that. he 
does  not  wish  to  acknowledge  44  as  his  own,  the  Shepherd  is  made 
to  express  it;  whenever  he  wishes  to  indulge  in  a particularly 
hitter  tirade  against  society  or  individuals,  the  Shepherd  gives 
it  voice.  Moreover  Hogg's  simplicity  frequently  serves  as  a foil 
to  set  off  the  superior  wisdom  of  North;  ani  causes  him  repeat- 
edly to  he  the  hutt  of  the  latter '3  jokes.  No  sentiments  are 
too  wild  for  him  to  entertain,  no  judgments  too  prejudiced  or 
unfounded  for  him  to  render;  and  no  hursts  of  eloquence  too 
enthusiastic  for  him  to  deliver.  He  it  is  whose  powers  of 
argument  and  declamation  precipitate  some  of  the  most  heated 
political  and  religious  discussions,  whose  fertile  imagination 
and  powers  of  comical  description  combine  tc  produce  hot;'  the 
picturesque  vividness  of  scene,  and  the  succession  of  ianci-ul 
or  ludicrous  narratives  with  which  the  *fNoctes"  are  sprinkled. 
Nor  do  these  things  sum  up  the  whole  of  his  contribution  to  ^he 
pa-pera;  his  hot  temper  and  eccentricity  frequently  make  Us 
smile;  his  personal  interest  in  literature  draws  forth  thw 


66  - 


ideas  of  the  group  on  such  subjects;  and  his  love  of  nature  in- 
troduces many  charming  p ictures  of  the  hills  and  dales  amongst 
which  his  life  is  spent. 

Yet  the  Shepherd,  although  frequently  designated  as  " the 

glory  of  the  Noctes,"  is  not  the  only  character  of  importance  in 

the  dialogues.  Rivaling  him  in  prominence  is  Christopher  North 

himself,  « the  invincible  Tory  champion  before  whose  crutch  the 

whole  breed  of  radicals,  Ihiglings  and  Cockneys  fled  as  mists 

(39) 

before  the  sun."  North  as  he  is  depicted  in  the  dialogues 
represents  Professor  Wilson  himself,  or  rather  the  Professor  as 
he  would  have  liked  to  be.  The  portrait  is  therefore  somewhat 
idealized,  but  it  is  a portrait  of  value  because  it  is  the  one 
key  to  the  true  character  and  convictions  of  the  author.  Only 
through  the  utterances  of  North  can  the  reader  hope  to  obtain 
any  real  estimate  of  the  opinions  of  Wilson,  for,  while  the 
Shepherd  serves  as  the  mouth  piece  for  whatever  Wilson  knew  to 
be  extravagant,  romantic,  or  unjust,  North  voices  3uch  sentiments 
as  he  considered  worthy  of  serious  consideration.  Christopher 
is  something  of  a tyrant,  haughty, scornful,  infallible  in  wisdom, 
and  in  virtue  unassailable.  He  it  is  who  most  frequently  takes 
issue  with  the  Shepherd,  involves  him  in  lengthy  arguments,  and 
rivals  him  in  powers  of  declamation.  Nor  can  we  afford  tc  ignore 
Timothy  Tickler,  with  his  practical  turn  of  mind  and  general 


(39)  Saintsbury,  "Essays  in  English  Literature,"  p.  360. 


67 


common  sense,  continually  acting  as  intermediary  "between  the 
two  originals,  North  and  the  Shepherd,  and  frequently  bringing 
his  friends  down  from  their  altitude  in  an  abrupt  fashion  which 
is  of  ’great  benefit  to  the  dialogues.  From  under  North,  who  is 
painting  in  ultra  sentimental  fashion  the  picture  of  a Covenant- 
ing martyrdom,  he  suddenly  withdraws  the  chair  and  the  de scrip- 

(30) 

tion  falls  with  the  old  man  under  the  table.  To  the  Shepherd 
he  administers  frequent  reproof.  At  one  moment  we  find  him  con- 
signing that  poet’ 3 own  contributions  to  the  flames  in  retaliation 

(31) 

for  his  disparaging  remarks  on  his  contemporaries,  while  at 

the  next  he  is  checking  Hogg's  rather  poor  taste  in  describing 

a dream  of  operation  and  dissection  while  the  company  are  at 
(33) 

supper.  Nor  does  the  general  mode  cf  expression  escape  censure, 
for  throughout  every  dialogue  Tickler  is  ever  ready  to  crush 
extravagance,  sentimentality,  and  rhapsodical  eloquence. 

And  lastly,  there  i3  Thomas  De  Quincey,  who  is  introduced 
frankly  and  without  reserve  into  some  of  the  very  best  dialogues, 
and  whose  peculiar  quality  of  mini,  exactly  and  admirably  repro- 
duced, adds  an  entirely  new?  note  to  the  dialogues.  Where  North 
and  the  Shepherd  indulge  in  mere  enthusiastic  expression  of  their 
like3  and  dislikes,  De  Quincey  proceeds  to  tell  us  why  they  exist, 
applying  thereto  all  his  extraordinary  powers  of  logic.  While 

the  others  engage  in  heated  and  prejudiced  discussion  he  calmly 

"(30)  II,  p . 105 . 

(31)  I,  p . 85. 

(32)  II,  p.  57. 


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66  - 


proceeds  to  analyze,  interpret,  and  expound,  with  due  respect  to 

the  order  in  which  his  facts  and  conclusions  are  presented.  His 

mind  delights  in  the  metaphysical,  and  he  devotes  page 3 to  the 

consideration  with  logical  accuracy  and  precision  of  the  most 

subtle  and  involved  problems.  He  enj oy3  the  task  of  unravelling 

intricacies,  voluntarily  undertaking  a philosophical  analysis  of 

the  complex  emotions  of  the  Shepherd  during  his  will  ride  on 

(33) 

Bonassus,  and  he  is  ever  ready  to  expose  sundry  errors  in 
literature  and  life,  as,  for  example,  his  detailed  revelation  of 

(34 

the  inherent  weakness  of  Southey’s  works,  or  his  discussion  cf. 

(35) 

the  basis  of  misunderstanding  between  the  English  and  the  Scotch. 

Turning  next  to  a discussion  cf  the  general  style  of  the 
"Nootes  Ambrosianae ,»  we  note  first  its  distinctive  feature,  the 
dialogue.  But  here  again  Wilson's  besetting  sin,  lack  of  definite 
construction  and  carefully  wrought  out  system,  is  in  evidence. 
Never  did  he  decide  first  what  his  subject  matter  was  going  to 
be,  and  then  plan  the  composition  of  the  dialogue  accordingly, 
Instead  he  seems  to  have  commenced  to  write,  and  then  allowed 
fancy  and  the  conversation  to  carry  him  where  they  would. Now  this 
may  be  all  right  in  actual  conversation,  in  which  no  one  present 
has  previously  planned  what  he  will  say,  and  no  one  knows  from 
one  moment  to  the  next  what  trend  the  conversation  will  take. 


(33)  II,  r.  359. 

(34)  II,  p . 344. 

( 35)  II,  pp  . 373  -376. 


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69  - 


But  if  that  conversation  is  to  be  worth  recording  for  the  benefit 
of  others  outside  the  immediate  group,  it  must  have  a definite 
purpose.  Take  the  dialogues  of  the  average  novel  for  example, 
wherein  one  can  clearly  trace  the  literary  cause  and  effect. 

The  material  is  organized,  arranged  in  such  a fashion  as  to  con- 
vince the  reader  of  a certain  truth;  and  it  is  this  ulterior 
motive  alone  that  justifies  their  existence.  But  in  Wilson's 
dialogae  no  such  purpose  i3  discernible.  Even  when  he  introduces 
argument  there  is  no  effort  to  arrive  at  definite  conclusion. 

The  debate  may  indeed  become  heated,  but  it  i3  unorganized,  spas- 
modic, and  in  nine  cases  cut  of  every  ten  the  characters  retain 
at  the  close  their  original  viewpoints,  the  reader  being  left 
to  agree  with  whomever  he  will.  Tbu3  North's  rabid  Toryism  may 
acquaint  us  with  a few  worthy  ideals  of  his  party,  but  it  csttainly 
is  not  advanced  so  as  to  persuade  us  that  that  party  is  the  only 
one  to  follow.  Likewise  his  bitter  hatred  of  the  «• Cockneys , ” 
or  the  equally  enthusiastic  praise  and  vehement  blame  accorded  to 
other  literary  men,  may  interest  us  as  the  opinion  of  one  particu- 
lar character,  but  seldom  does  a convincing  presentation  cause  it 
to  influence  materially  our  previously  formed  estimates  of  them. 

In  such  loosely  constructed  dialogue , moreover , the  transi- 
tions are  necessarily  irresponsible  and  random.  A single  word 
or  thought  in  a certain  speech  serves  to  introduce  an  entirely 
new  line  of  conversation,  and  the  talk  savings  off  at  a new  angle 


. 

■ 

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• 

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V ■ w 

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- 70  - 


before  the  original  subject  is  nearly  exhausted.  In  the  individ- 
ual sentences,  also,  the  same  general  looseness  of  structure  is  in 
evidence.  The  periods  are  easy  and  idiomatic,  entirely  without 
that  stiffness  or  slight  artificiality  that  is  frequently  born 
of  unde rly ing  purpose , but  at  times  decidedly  faulty  in  syntax. 

Not  even  when  he  waxes  oratorical  does  Wilson  stop  tc  weigh  his 
sentences,  and  calculate  their  general  effect.  The  result  i3 
two-fold,  for  while  the  discourse  undoubtedly  loses  any  definite 
purpose  or  point,  it  gains  on  the  other  hand  a certain  spontaneity 
and  freshness  that  has  much  of  the  character  and  charm  of  actual 
conversation,  and  conveys  the  impression  of  familiar  intercourse 
between  intimate  friends. 

There  is,  however,  another  factor  that  contributes  to  this 
realistic  effect  of  the  dialogues,  namely  their  elasticity. 

Rapidly  as  the  subjects  change , --widely  variant  as  is  their  tone, 
the  actual  expression  never  fail3  to  respond  to  the  difference. 

It  is  flexible  and  fitted  to  the  characters  and  topics  alike, 
whether  they  are  serious,  satirical,  openly  ridiculous,  broadly 
humorous,  or  delicately  Imaginative,  Thus  in  dealing  with  action, 
narrative  cr  passing  gossip  the  language  is  unusually  free,  racy,, 
and  colloquial.  Again  when  dealing  with  the  more  serious  problems 
of  church,  politics  or  literature  it  becomes  mere  weighty,  even 
adapting  an  argumentative  tone  if  the  speakers  happen  to  differ 
in  opinion.  Take  for  example  the  appropriateness  of  the  style 
employed  to  express  the  logical  and  philosophical  discourse  of 
De  Quincey.  Whenever  the  English  opium  eatsr  speaks,  the  language 


71 


and  syntax  display  an  exactness,  care  and  finish  that  clearly 
evidences  the  scholar.  De  Quincey  as  presented  in  the  dialogues 
is  extraordinarily  like  the  De  Ouincey  we  know  through  hi 3 works. 
He  has  an  unlimited  vocabulary,  his  speeches  are  frequently 
marked  by  long  and  sustained  sentences  of  dignity  and  power,  and 
he  is  before  and  beyond  all  else  a brilliant  rhetorician.  At 
times  this  sustained  dignity  and  stateliness  of  style,  necessi- 
tated indeed  by  his  choice  of  themes,  tends  to  become  monotonous, 
but  again  it  rises  unto  the  effect  of  magnificence.  Certain 

passages,  indeed,  as  that  in  which  he  is  made  to  elaborate  uoon 

(36) 

the  profound  influence  of  childhood  upon  the  nature  of  man, 
are  rendered  with  a rich  and  stately  movement,  an  inherent  rhythm 
and  melody,  #1  ich  clearly  reflect,  although  in  a lesser  degree, 
passages  from  his  authentic  works. 

Again,  when  nature  is  the  subject  under  discussion,  and 
either  the  Shepherd  or  North  is  indulging  in  long  effusions  of 
love  and  admiration  for  her  beauty,  we  frequently  find  passages 
of  brilliant  rhetorical  display.  Such  bursts  of  unchecked  elo- 
quence, extending  perhaps  for  a couple  of  pages  at  a stretch, 
are  at  times,  however,  somewhat  over  elaborate  for  ordinary 
conversation.  Were  one  actually  listening  to  such  a passage, 
instead  of  reading  it,  the  chances  are  that  he  would  fail  to 
comprehend  it,  far  less  be  willing  to  listen  patiently  to  it  all. 
Indeed,  the  speaker  would  in  all  probability  be  interrupted  be- 


(36)  II,  p.  366. 


72 


fore  he  got  more  than  half  way  through  the  first  page,  or  else 
he  would  fini  himself  addressing  an  audience  whose  attention  was 
engaged  elsewhere. 

Moreover  such  effusions,  although  in  the  "Noctes"  seldom 
keyed  up'  to  the  highly  rhapsodical  strains  of  the  descriptive 
essays,  do  at  times  lead  to  a distinctly  poetic  rant  and  rhythm, 
that  is  not  conducive  to  the  best  prose  style.  The  Shepherd, 
himself  a poet  of  no  mean  gift,  is  the  worse  offender.  He  is 
describing  music  and  before  he  has  ’well  started  we  recognize  a 
line  that  may  be  scanned,  » sae  dewy  sweet  the  soun1:"  he  refers 
to  the  Heavens  in  a descriptive  line  of  similar  quality,  "a 
glorious  glitter  cc'  cloudless  stars;"  and  while  talking  of  birds 
and  bird  music  he  adopts  a decidedly  metrical  swing,  "but  twa 
laigh  sweet  half  mournfu’  note3  o'  the  lintwhite  in  the  broom." 
Countless  illustrations  may  be  found  also  among  the  passages  of 
North  dealing  with  mountain,  moor  or  Highland  storm.  "Stern  they 
stand  in  a glorious  gloom,"  he  says  of  the  first;  "In  what  sullen 
skies  he  sometimes  shroud3  the  solitary  moor3,"  of  the  second; 
and  »at  the  howl  of  the  midnight  storm,"  of  the  last.  Not  in- 
frequently do  lines  of  blank  verse  occur,  as  one  cf  the  phrases 
in  the  description  of  Sarah  Sidions  acting  the  part  of  Lady 
Macbeth,  "aneath  the  braidei  blackness  o'  her  hair."  Occasionally, 
moreover,  scansion  is  possible  for  more  than  just  one  phrase,  as 
in  the  following  sentence,  which  has  but  a couple  of  breaks: 

"Then  the  evening*  star  lets  loose  her  locks  to  the  dews  high  up 

(37) 

in  Heaven,  every  nool  among  the  hills  has  its  ain  Eidilon." 

(37)  II,  p . 46. 


8 


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• 

. ' 

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»« 


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— — • -n  — . 


73  - 


Equally  characteristic  of  the  general  style  of  the  "Noctss" 
is  the  suitability  of  the  language  to  the  characters  speaking. 

Of  the  three  principal  figures  in  the  dialogues  Tickler  is  thor- 
oughly Scotch,  while  North  can  understand  and  speak  both,  languages. 
Not  the  least  part  of  such  humor  as  the  dialogues  contain  is 
derived  from  this  very  situation,  for  Tickler  is  repeatedly  unable 
to  follow  the  broad  dialect  of  his  Scottish  friend.  "What's  a 

gowpen  o'  glour'?"  he  asks  in  bewilderment,  only  to  receive  the 

(38) 

enlightening  answer,  "Just  twa  neif  fu's  o’  clairts."  Hogg's 
speech  is  indeed  the  broadest  of  the  bread,  displacing  a command 
of  resources  in  Scottish  idicn  and  dialect  not  even  to  be  found 
in  the  works  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  His  vernacular  is  copious, 
splendid  and  flexible,  but  never  is  it  provincial.  It  would  in 
all  probability  have  been  a great  deal  easier  for  the  author  to 
adopt  for  Hogg  a more  or  less  local  dialect,  but  this  he  avoids 
entirely.  The  Shepherd's  Scotch  is  national,  such  as  can  be 
understood  by  Scotchmen  of  all  localities,  highland  and  lowland 
alike;  "it  is  the  very  acme  of  the  vernacular."  Indeed  were 
one  to  attempt  to  Anglicise  it  the  task  would  prove  almost  im- 
possible, just  as  it  is  impossible  to  express  in  English  the 
famous  phrases  of  "Auld  Lang  Syne,"  or  "The  Land  o'  the  Leal." 

There  is  somethin?  in  the  very  sound  and  spirit  of  the  wcrd3  that 
defies  translation.  As  North  himself  comments,  "What  a difference 
to  the  ear  in  the  sounds  of  1 ie  and  lee ; "-the  English  word  fails 
(38)  II,  p.  48 . ~ 


' * 


■ ' ' ' ■ ' 


. 


' 


1 


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' i ■ 


’ 


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74  - 


to  convey  r to  the  Scottish  ear  at  least  - the  same  force  and 
meaning  as  the  dialect.  So  it  is  with  the  speech  of  the  Shepherd; 
it  has  a power,  vigor  ani  freshness  all  its  own.  "Dour"  may  be 
rendered  as  stupid,  hut  how  tame  the  latter  word:  "fernyt  Icklsd" 
may  mean  freckled  hut  the  heauty  of  the  figure  is  gone;  the 
"Gioamin'"  may  he  translated  a3  twilight  Taut  where  is  the  mystery 
and  elusiveness  in  the  latter  word;  "glowerin'"  may  he  Anglicised 
to  f reining  hut  the  blackness  and  dread  seem  gone  from  the  Englishm- 
an! 30  on  through  an  endless  list.  The  duck  "plcutering  among  the 
dubs,"  the  snow  flakes  dreepin'  loon  the  open  lum,"  the  "glintin' 
o’  a wee  hit  dew  wet  gewany,"  the  men  in  the  rain  "iichten!  the 
drops  frae  their  e'en,"  such  phrase  s , while  typical  of  the  dialect, 
have  nevertheless  a richness  and  originality  of  expression  all 
tleir  own. 

Some  of  the  Shepherd's  figures  of  speect,  moreover,  are 

just  as  typically  Highland  as  his  language,  "werst  as  a potatoe 

without  saut,"  "mealy  mouthed  as  a flour  sack  in  autumn,"  while 

some  of  his  most  profound  or  sagacious  oh ger vat  ions  are  couched 

in  the  same  beloved  dialect,  "I  bae  nae  notion  c'  that  creed  that 

tells  me  to  leave  a dour  doited  ievil  to  gc  launderin'  on  wi ' hie 

(39) 

e'en  shut  his  cxr.  way  to  perdition."  "Noo  that  you  ax  we,"  he 
says  in  advocating  that  cruelty  to  animals  he  counteracted  by  the 
rousing  of  moral  sentiment  against  it  rather  than  by  law,  "its 
better  to  teach  it  loon,  and  preach  it  loon,  than  to  fine  it  doon 


(39)  I,  p.  332. 


• • 

«• 


V 


. 


: 


>. 


- 


1 


75  - 


(40) 

and  imprison  it  doon."  So,  too,  ha  attacks  the  would-be  scholar, 
"I  canna  read  Greek  except  in  a Latin  translation  dene  into  Eng- 
lish, the  case  I suspect  wi'  mony  a one  that  passes  for  a sort 
(41) 

of  scholar}"  or  expresses  hiw  views  on  the  inherent  nature  of 
man  in  the  comment,  "The  only  twa  perfect  3een0nim.es  in  the 
English  language  are  man  and  sinner." 

At  times  also  this  richness,  copiousness  and  splendor  of 
the  Shepherd's  vernacular  lends  to  some  of  the  longer  passages 
wherein  he  is  describing  or  philosophizing,  a peculiarly  distinct- 
ive touch.  Take  for  example  his  description  of  the  dying  tree, 
which  obviously  owes  much  of  its  beauty  to  the  flexibility  of 
the  Scottish  idibm  employed.  "Haena  ye  seen,  sir,  some  noble 
tree  stannin'  sick  like  in  the  forest  - why  or  wherefore  ye  canna 
weel  tell  - for  a'  roun'  the  black  deer  soil  is  pervious  to  the 
rains  and  dews,  and  a great  river  gangs  sweep  in'  by  its  roots, 
gently  watering  them  when  it  rins  laigh,  and  dash in!  irumly  yards 
up  the  bank  when  its  in  spate  - and  yet  the  constitution  o'  the 
thee  sir,  is  gane  - its  big  branches  a'  tottery  wil  unheaithf ui 
iTioss,  an1  its  wee  anes  a'  fru3h  as  saugh  winds,  an'  try  in'  in 
vain  to  shoot  out  their  buds  into  the  spring  - so  the  hawk  or 
heron  builds  there  nae  mair  - and  yoi:  are  willin',  rather  than 
the  monarch  o'  the  wood  should  dee  o'  consumption,  that  axes  should 
be  laid  to  his  bole  and  branches,  to  rug  him  doon  out  o'  that 

lang  slow  linger  o'  dwining  death,  till  at  last,  wi'  ae  crash  no 
74&TX  p.  135. 

(41)  I,  r.  230. 


76  - 


unworthy  o'  him,  down  ha  comes,  over  whelming-  hunera  o'  sma  3aplin3 

an.  alarmin'  distant  vales  wi'  the  unaccountable  thunder  o'  hi3 

fa*  - no  the  less,  awfu'  because  lang  expect  it,  an'  leavin  a gap 

(43) 

that'll  no  be  filled  up  for  centuries.” 

Frequently  taoreover,  in  dwelling  upon  the  wonders  of  nature 

the  Shepherd  is  led  into  another  field,  namely  the  philosophical, 

for  nature  and  human  nature  are  ever  closelv  akin,  "The  sicht  o' 

(43) 

a primrose,”  he  says,  "is  to  be  like  the  soun ' o'  a prayer,” 
thus  momentarily  reminding  us  of  the  great  interpreter,  of  nature, 
Wordsworth,  Or  again  he  remarks,  "the  sun  was  setting  sae  glor- 
iously, and  the  profound  hush  o'  nature  seemed  o'  itsel  an  assur- 

(44) 

ance  o'  immortality.”  Whole  passages  too  are  at  times  devoted 
to  the  elaboration  of  such  ideas,  which  gain  much  of  their  force 
and  freshness  from  the  original  turn  of  the  dialect  which  express- 
es them:.  Take  for  instance  the  passage  in  which  the  Shepherd 
aptly  sums  up  the  feelings  that  accompany  advancing  years*.  ”Af 
time 3 I think  there  is  even  less  sunshine:  at  least  that  o' 

heavenly  licht  that  used  to  wauken  rr.e  in  the  mornings  when  a bey 
by  dauncin'  on  my  face,  i3  extinct,  or  withdrawn  to  another  planet: 
and  yet  reason  serves  to  convince  me  that  the  sun  cann'  be  muckle 
the  waur  o'  ha' in  been  shinin'  those  last  forty  years  o'  his  life, 
and  that  the  faut  moun  lie  in  the  pupil  o'  the  iris  o'  my  ain 
two  auld  hazy  e'en:  neither  can  I see  cause  why  dew  drops  should 

be  less  baautifu.  than  o'  yore,  though  certain  sure  they  seem  sae : 


"(42)  I,  p.  ise. 

(43)  II,  v . 58. 

(44)  II,  p.  58. 


77 


yet  I fain  believe  for  the  sak  o'  the  Flower  of  the  Forest,  that 

rapt  youth  still  sees  the  beauty  that  some  felin  or  other  noo 

(45) 

veils  frae  my  eyes.” 

From  this  discussion  of  the»»Noctes  Ambtosianas , M therefore, 
it  is  clear  that  if  the  reader  is  going  to  appreciate  the  valuable 
material  they  contain,  he  must  be  prepared  to  make  all  sorts  of 
allowances.  He  must  tolerate  the  many  glaring  faults  - the  ex- 
aggerations .and  the  improbabilities,  the  horse-play  and  practical 
joking,  the  quantities  of  poetic  rhapsodies  and  the  superabundance 
of  Scottish  dialect.  He  must  overlook  entirely  some  of  the  worse 
features,  such  as  the  puerilities,  touches  of  bad  taste,  false 
pathos,  and  tedious  burlesque.  But  if  he  can  accomodate  himself 
to  such  obFious  blemishes,  if  he  can  be  prepared  for  all  sorts  of 
prejudice  - literary,  political  and  religious  - for  frequent 
inconsistencies  in  the  treatment  of  the  same  subjects,  and  for 
much  that  is  of  purely  local  or  temporary  interest;  if  he  has  the 
ability  dsf  entering  into  the  real  spirit  of  a bygone  age,  he  will 
no  doubt  find  in  the  "Hcctes"  much  reading  that  is  truly  delight- 
ful. Their  unfailing  high  spirits,  their  conviviality  and  merri- 
ment, their  sunshiny  heartiness  and  humor,  are  but  a few  of  the 
sources  from  which  such  pleasures  may  be  derived.  Add  to  this 
the  dramatic  3k ill  with  which  the  characters  are  individualized 
the  abundance  of  incomplete  but  remarkable  gems  of  thought  and 


(45)  II,  p.  196. 


- 76  - 


expression  that  are  scattered  throughout  their  conversation,  and 

greatest  attraction  of  all  - "the  indescribable  bits,  phrases, 

sentences  and  short  paragraphs,  which. have,  more  than  anything 

out  of  the  very  best  novels,  the  character  ani  charm  cf  actual 
(46) 

conversation:"  and  the  attraction  of  the  "Hoctes"  is  complete. 
Indeed  to  read  one  of  the  dialogues  has  for  those  who  have  the 
gift  of  realizing  literature,  the  effect  of  actually  participating 
in  all  that  is  said  or  done. 


(46)  Saint abury,  "Essays  in  English  Literature,"  p.  2£6. 


- 

I 


78  - 


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